


Fateful Discoveries

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, This follows after my previous story: An Irony of Fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All right I surrender! Anyone around see my sword or poignard? LOL!<br/>From overwhelming responses I got to An Irony of Fate (to which I thought I had finished) I’m giving my readers a little something more and hope they’ll enjoy it.<br/>Once more I'm futzing with history but it's my story and I can do what I like, eh? LOL again! </p><p>++++</p><p>There was an interview done with the boys where it was mentioned to Tom that his character of Athos glowers. Couldn't resist putting that in this chapter.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

*Captain Treville’s office* 

“Why did you summon me, Captain?” d’Artagnan glanced at the maps on a table in the corner. “Am I to have another lesson in battle strategies again?”

“Non,” Treville smiled at the boy. “Take a seat, d’Artagnan.”

When he did, d’Artagnan stared at Treville curiously, wondering why the older man had interrupted his shooting practice with Aramis.

“D’Artagnan, I think you should reconsider your position on not telling King Louis that you are his nephew, even though you were born on the other side of the blanket so to speak.”

Bouncing up from his chair like a spring had popped out pinching him in a delicate area, d’Artagnan threw his hands up in the air. “NON! It’s my life and finding out Athos and I are really brothers is more than enough for me!" he yelled and stomped his foot like a petite garcon would have in a fit of temper.

“I don’t think you’ve taken the time to truly consider the ramifications that could arise from all of this.” Treville was getting dizzy watching the boy walk from one end of his office to the other and back again. 

“What are you on about then" d’Artagnan snapped, and remembering who he was talking too tactfully added, “sir?”

“What if Queen Anne proves incapable of having children?” Treville remembered when she had suffered her miscarriage and how upset Louis was over the loss.

“She’s young yet,” d’Artagnan reminded him. “There’s plenty of time for her to conceive.”

“You’re wearing blinders, son,” Treville shook his head. “They’ll have to come off sooner or later. Might as well be now,” he mumbled the latter part to himself.

Stubborn as the day was long, d’Artagnan didn’t want to concede that the captain was correct. “The whole thing’s ridiculous when you think on it,” he grumbled. “If their Majestys have no issue could you honestly see me ruling France? For that is what you're getting at if I'm reading you right.”

“Oui,” Treville nodded, standing up and going over to where d’Artagnan stood gazing out a window down to the courtyard below. The youngster’s brothers-in-arms were going through their paces and could be clearly seen from their vantage point from above. “Consider this, if there is indeed no issue and something, God forbid, happens to Louis and his brother Gaston, you would be the clear choice to be crowned.”

Crossing himself in the like manner of Aramis, d’Artagnan glared at Treville. “And what think you on how Marie de Medici would feel, eh?”

“I would fear for your safety,” Treville admitted freely. “She’s tried to usurp King Louis’s throne once, and I wouldn’t put it past her to try something underhanded with you either.

“Yet you would still want me to inform the King of our relationship?” d’Artagnan held up a finger to let Treville know he still had more to say. “Then there’s the question of him even believing my tale when there is no proof but the words of Athos’s neighbor Abelard.”

“There is something else known only to a few within the royal family,” Treville managed to halt d’Artagnan’s rant for the moment. “The men of the royal house have all been born with a small star shaped birthmark in exactly the same spot.”

Standing with his back against the wall, d'Artagnan wouldn't look Treville in the eye as the man told that to him. “Where is it located?”

“On their backs, just above the right shoulder blade.” Seeing d’Artagnan lose color, Treville winced. “Your reaction alone tells me the same follows true for you as well, lad.”

Hanging his head down so that his long bangs covered his face, d’Artagnan nodded his head. “So that mark along with the story, which I’m sure King Louis will have verified, determines my fate yet again,” his chin jutted out in anger. “I do not like this!” He had secretly hoped that perhaps the king, against any evidence presented, wouldn't feel there was any truth behind Captain Treville's words. But, along with the mark of the royals literally on his person, d'Artagnan didn't see that happening.

“Let me talk to Louis first to prepare him,” Treville offered.

“I’ve barely broken the surface of becoming a Musketeer and this has to go and happen,” d’Artagnan moaned pitifully. “Athos may have something to say about all this too,” he added and raised a hand to rub at his temple. His head felt like it was ready to explode, it pounded so and a dull ache had begun to blossom behind his eyes as his breathing hitched.

“D’Artagnan,” Treville barked, “are you okay, lad?” He could see the boy hyperventilating and tried to calm him down with no success. Racing out to the balcony he hollered out. “Athos get up here fast!”

Throwing his sword over to Porthos, who caught it deftly in mid-air, Athos heard the urgency in Treville’s voice and took the stairs two at a time. When he ran inside the office his attention was caught by his little brother’s distress. “Slow even breaths, d’Artagnan.” Athos placed a hand on the youngster’s chest, his other hand cradled his brother’s head. “In and out... that’s it now. Nice and easy,” he instructed calmly as he could see d’Artagnan’s panic ease up. Placing both his hands on the child’s face, Athos’s concern became apparent. “What has caused this to happen?”

“I’m afraid it’s my fault,” Treville’s gruff voice admitted. Seeing Athos’s fierce gaze turned on him, Treville could well understand his lieutenant's reputation among the men of his regiment. A lesser man would be quaking in their boots, withering away from that glowering face.

“Apologies, Captain,” d’Artagnan said breathlessly. “I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.” Collecting himself and feeling somewhat back to normal he asked, “May I go outside for some air?”

Waving his hand at d’Artagnan, indicating it was fine, Treville watched his youngest Musketeer escape to the balcony. Then he focused his attention back on his lieutenant and braced himself for the storm to come. “Athos, d’Artagnan needs to talk to the King, it’s as simple as that,” Treville folded his arms as he observed Athos's face darken.

“That’s what caused the pup to be so upset?” Athos removed his hat and let it slip out of his hand onto the floor. A deep scowl appeared on his face as he closed his eyes, as if in pain. “I should have known,” Athos said softly.

“The lad’s worries grew by leaps and bounds, seeing all manner of problems cropping up from telling Louis about his parentage. Then it escalated even more when I told d’Artagnan he could possibly be in succession to become the ruler of France one day.”

“Why the deuce did you have to say something like that to him!” Athos glowered again at Treville. “Have you considered the lack of solid proof?” Noticing Treville roll his eyes, Athos wondered what that was all about. 

“D’Artagnan said the very same thing to me.”

“And don’t you feel that little detail wouldn’t become a major stumbling block?” Athos was then startled by Treville's sudden burst of laughter. 

“The boy’s wearing the *proof* on his back,” Treville remarked dryly, huffing softly as Athos arched a brow high. Treville then went on to explain about the birthmark and what it meant in the scheme of things.

“I was worried for d’Artagnan’s sake that King Louis would think we’ve all concocted a fairy tale for his entertainment,” Athos shrugged. “At the very least the king may think we were pushing the boy forward to gain his attention.”

“Non, do not trouble yourself, mon ami,” Treville smiled. “There are a lot of pitfalls ahead once d’Artagnan’s royal lineage comes to light but I believe the lad will come out the stronger for it.” Not hearing his lieutenant trying to argue the matter further, Treville was greatly relieved. One less hurdle to cross and all that.

Smirking, Athos stared out toward the balcony where d’Artagnan stood in animated conversation with Aramis. “Richelieu may have a heart attack when he hears the news.”

“No doubt,” Treville grinned, relishing exchanging words with his Eminence.

“And then we have to worry about Marie de Medici’s reaction when word gets back to her, which I’m sure it eventually will.” Athos understood the reasoning behind Treville’s actions in bringing all of this out in the open. He and all of his brothers will just have to prepare themselves for the fallout to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In truth Gaston Jean Baptiste was Louis younger brother but for my story to work a little better since I made Gaston d’Art’s papa I am making him the older brother since d’Art is supposed to be 18 years old.  
> And yes I try to research material when stories become more involved than I like. LOL!  
> So I am only going to cover Gaston’s first marriage to Marie de Bourbon, Duchess of Montpensier and their only child together Anne Marie Louise d’Orlean.  
> Since fussing with timelines, ages, etc. and having no idea how old Marie Louise was, for the sake of my story I’m making her near d’Art’s age when or if I bring her into the picture.  
> Of course Gaston did eventually have 2 illegitimate children a girl to Marie Porcher and a boy to Louise-Roger de La Marbeliere, somewhere along the line. Not sure if I will bother writing that into the story or not but if I do, you have been warned. LOL!  
> Also some trivia here, during Gaston’s second marriage he had 5 children to Marguerite of Lorraine, 3 of whom survived. But I am not even going to deal with that aspect of his life.
> 
> ++++

*Royal Palace*

“D’Artagnan is my nephew!” King Louis couldn’t have been more shocked had Captain Treville informed him that Cardinal Richelieu wasn’t Catholic. “You’re jesting,” Louis began to laugh, but as he observed the other man’s serious features he collected himself. “You’re serious on this matter then?” Pacing back and forth, his hands behind his back, Louis studied the man before him. Treville was his most trusted ally and he always listened to him, taking his advice most of the time unless Cardinal Richelieu argued against it.

“Quite, sire,” Treville cleared his throat and then proceeded into a lengthy explanation of how Porthos decided to look into the relationship between Athos and d’Artagnan which led to Gaston’s picadillos coming to light. “And lastly, there’s the royal birthmark.”

At that King Louis promptly collapsed on his throne. “There’s no doubt?”

“None in my mind, sire, and you could easily verify Gaston’s part in this by sending him a letter telling him of what has transpired.”

“I’m totally stunned,” Louis blinked a few times as he leaned his head back to study the ceiling. Then with a jolt, he sat up slapping his hands on the arms of his throne. Joy lit up his face. “Hah hah! D’Artagnan defended the Musketeer’s honor with bravery when he faced LaBarge on your behalf, Treville.” Then Louis puffed out his chest and wore a silly grin. “And he’s my nephew too! I can’t sing his praises enough right now," he boasted with pride.

“D’Artagnan did acquit himself very well against that criminal,” Treville smiled. “It would appear that the youngster was born fearless.”

“Like a true royal should be,” Louis’s mind was racing with various thoughts, some of which were how he would introduce d’Artagnan at court. He was pleased at this news because he had taken a liking to d’Artagnan right off but wasn’t quite sure if this was something to be paraded about as yet. Wanting to show the child off warred with the controversy that would surround d'Artagnan's birth. “How does the boy feel about all of this?”

“He’s a bit overwhelmed, sire,” Treville replied. “First finding out he and Athos are half brothers and then discovering his relationship to you via Gaston’s extramarital affairs,” he explained briefly, “have left d’Artagnan’s mind spinning.”

“I know the feeling,” Louis responded wryly. “With my brother Nicolas Henri dead,” he grew sad at that memory, “and Gaston’s past intrigues,” Louis rolled his eyes. “I have felt quite alone at times,” he wondered if his captain had any thoughts on the matter.

“Oui,” Treville nodded, “because Gaston keeps getting himself involved in things he should leave well enough alone. Gaston realizes he wouldn’t be welcome in your court, sire.”

“Whoever coined the phrase *being lonely in a crowd* had the right of it I believe,” Louis murmured quietly. “At times that is how I feel,” he remarked deeply. “Discovering I have Gaston’s son literally at the back door of my palace is simply superb!” Louis stood up and walked over to Treville. “Still, I don’t want my mother to hear of this. At least not yet.”

“You have my full support in whatever you decide, your Majesty.”

“It’s sad to say, but after my mother tried to take my throne away from me I cannot trust her.”

“I agree,” Treville thought that was the understatement of the year. “Is Gaston still in Lorraine?”

“Oui,” Louis threw his captain a wry look. “At least he has off-spring to boast about from his marriage to Marie, even though it was only a girl.”

“Oui, Anne Marie Louise,” Treville acknowledged. It had been a long time since he had seen the child.

“I know Gaston’s up to something in Lorraine ever since Marie’s death.” Louis shook his head. “I’m not surprised that one of his bastard’s turned up in Paris.” Louis seemed worried for a moment as he gazed at Treville. “Captain, see that d’Artagnan sees me immediately,” he ordered. “I trust your word, but I want to see this birthmark for myself.

“I anticipated your request, sire,” Treville smirked. “D’Artagnan’s on the other side of that door.”

“Excellent!” Louis crowed. “Tell him to entre.”

“Sire, before the boy does, could you please refrain from calling him a *bastard*,” Treville winced, "at least to his face. It won’t sit well with him I’m sure.”

“Oui,” Louis nodded. “I wouldn't be so tactless to say something like that in front of him.”

Treville strode to and opened the door, pulling d’Artagnan reluctantly inside the room.

After his captain nearly dragged him inside the throne room, d'Artagnan knelt on one knee before his king.

“D’Artagnan!” Louis cried out, walking swiftly over to the boy. “Captain Treville has just told me everything.” Facing the youngster who was still kneeling before him he frowned. “Non, get up. There’s no need for that between family.”

Slowly getting back to his feet, d’Artagnan locked gazes with his uncle, and didn’t that just sound weird to his ears. It was something in which d'Artagnan was sure he'd never get used too. “Your Majesty, honestly all of this has hit me out of the blue and I still don’t know which end is up.”

“Oui, eh bien, we will deal with this the best we can,” Louis tried to put d’Artagnan at ease. “I will be making discreet inquiries into Gaston’s activities back at La Fere to verify the validity of what Athos’s neighbor told Porthos,” Louis smiled at the young man who nervously shifted from one foot to the other. “And of course I will be checking out your birth at the convent in Gascony as well.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less,” d’Artagnan watched the king grin at him.

“If you don’t mind,” Louis hesitantly asked, “may I see your birthmark?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan removed his doublet, then his weapon’s belt and handed them both to the captain while he unlaced his shirt. Shrugging the material down enough, d’Artagnan turned his exposed back for the king to see the birthmark he bore just above his right shoulder blade.

“Thank you,” Louis grinned. “Checking out the story is just a formality as far as I’m concerned now after seeing the proof right in front of my eyes.” Louis held out his arms and then pulled d’Artagnan to him in a fierce hug. “Welcome home, nephew!”

Not expecting such an exuberant exchange, d’Artagnan was taken off guard and afraid to reciprocate, so he let his arms just dangle to his side as the king squeezed the breath out of him.

“Wait until I tell Anne!” Louis was quite excited. Actually this was the best news he has had in a long time.

“Do you have to tell your brother about me?” D’Artagnan couldn’t make himself call Gaston his pe’re, at least not yet... or ever. As far as he was concerned Alexandre d’Artagnan was his true pe’re. 

Eyeing d’Artagnan closely, Louis knew that when the time came their may be difficulties ahead in getting d'Artagnan to meet Gaston. Who knew? In all probability Gaston may not even want to come back to Paris to meet his son. If that ended up being the case Louis would be a father to his nephew, and if God granted that Anne would conceive then he would be doubly blessed.

“I think between Athos and myself we’ll be spoiling you rotten, d’Artagnan,” Louis chuckled as he heard Treville’s snort.

“I couldn’t help but notice you left out your brother’s name in that remark, sire,” d’Artagnan smirked, starting to feel more like himself.

“First,” Louis said sharply, “when you are in my company, young man, you will address me as Uncle or Uncle Louis, either are perfectly acceptable. Second, once I inform my brother about you, I can’t be sure if he will even turn up,” he huffed. “Even if Gaston would I doubt he’d stay very long.” Turning around he headed back to his throne, mumbling to himself out loud. “No, Gaston would have to hurry back home to make more mischief for me instead.”

Sending Captain Treville an odd look, d’Artagnan nodded his head toward the king, as if asking what was that all about?

Shuffling closer to the lad, Treville whispered in d’Artagnan’s ear. “Gaston has a penchant for making trouble for Louis.”

“All the more reason for not wanting to meet him if you ask me,” d’Artagnan muttered.

“Can’t say that I blame you, lad,” Treville whispered back.

“D’Artagnan, Anne and I were going to dine tonight with friends that are coming to visit us. Would you be so kind as to grace us with your presence?”

“Tonight?” d’Artagnan squeaked. Thinking of the celebration dinner he and Athos had planned that he’d have to forego in favor of a dull night filled with court talk that he wouldn’t understand, d’Artagnan sighed.

Louis wasn’t so totally self-absorbed that he’d miss the unhappiness clearly written on the youngster's face. “Perhaps you already have plans?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan breathed a sigh of relief. “Athos and I were going out to dinner tonight to celebrate our true brotherhood.”

“Totally understandable, d’Artagnan,” Louis smiled in pleasure. “I say, let’s do this then. I’ll wait until I hear back from Gaston and then we’ll plan a big event in your honor.”

“Uh,” d’Artagnan swallowed hard, “sounds fine, your Maj...” he corrected himself, “Uncle Louis.”

“I like the sound of that,” Louis laughed, “I really do.” Rubbing his hands together, he settled back in his chair. “Maybe things won’t be so dull around here with d’Artagnan running about, eh, Treville?”

Startled by that comment, Treville wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Shooting a long look at the lad’s surprised face, he glanced back at the king. “D’Artagnan will have a Musketeer’s duty to attend to, sire. I doubt he'll have all that much time for *running about*.”

“Ummm, and I’ll be on missions with my brothers too from time to time as well,” d’Artagnan reminded his uncle.

“Oui, oui,” Louis nodded. “I understand all that,” he waved his hand in the air. “But in-between times I’ll have you up at the palace periodically for soirees, dinners, and heart to heart talks just between you and I.”

Oh, oh, d’Artagnan thought as his heart dropped to his toes when his uncle mentioned *heart to heart* talks. This was going to be a disaster.


	3. Chapter 3

*Athos’s apartment*

“That was an excellent dinner, Athos,” d’Artagnan relaxed as he stretched out on his bed, hands behind his head. “I do hope Aramis and Porthos got back to their own places safely. They didn’t seem all that steady on their feet.”

“Lad, those two can take care of themselves just fine,” Athos joined his brother as he sat on the edge of the youth’s bed, tugging on d’Artagnan’s foot playfully. “I meant to ask you earlier about your conversation with the king. How did it go?”

Turning on his side, d’Artagnan looked at Athos with something akin to horror. “I have to address him as either uncle or Uncle Louis now,” he wrinkled up his nose. “I don’t have to bow in his presence anymore either.” He tried to remember more as it came to him. “Oh yeah, he’s going to contact his brother Gaston, but he didn’t sound to hopeful that he’d come or if he did Uncle Louis doubted Gaston would stay very long."

“That would be a good thing, eh, d’Artagnan?” Athos couldn’t help but notice that the boy shied away from calling Gaston his pe’re. And in truth, Alexandre was the one who raised him along with his wife, so who was he to say what was correct in this instance.

“I’m not sure,” d’Artagnan sat back up, pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin upon them. “I’m not really looking forward to the meeting.” Gazing at Athos’s compassionate face, he smiled. “Uncle Louis wants me to spend more time with him when I’m not training or on missions.”

Chuckling into his hand as he covered his mouth, Athos looked on the youngster with amusement. “Oui, it will be dreadful having to attend balls and dinners,” his eyes danced. “Think of all that small talk you’ll have to contend with.” Suddenly Athos was hit with a well aimed pillow directly to his face. “War is it?” he mockingly growled, lunging for the boy as he began to tickle d’Artagnan mercilessly.

Grabbing another pillow for protection, d’Artagnan kept hitting Athos with it until his brother ceased his attack. Giggling, d’Artagnan rolled onto his back. “I love you, Athos.”

“I return the sentiment several times over, child.”

Hearing the young man nearly crack his jaw yawning, Athos stood up. “Time for all petite princes to go to sleep.”

Mumbling under his breath as sleep claimed him, d’Artagnan’s words carried over to Athos. “Not a prince.”

His smiled faded away as Athos’s eyes darkened. “I’m afraid you now are, d’Artagnan.”

++++

*Next day, Garrison courtyard*

Falling on his rump as Porthos threw him over his shoulder into a big pile of hay, d’Artagnan glared at him. “What the hell kind of move do you call that?”

Grinning like a lunatic, Porthos lifted the boy back on his feet. “I told ya I play rough and dirty, whelp.”

Turning to face Aramis and Athos, who had been content to sit idly by while Porthos wiped the courtyard with him, d’Artagnan looked at them with his puppy dog eyes beseeching them for their help. When none came, he gave them *the pout*. “What happened to our motto?”

“You mean *every man for himself*?” Aramis chuckled along with Athos as his words hit home.

When Treville joined the group he cast a shrewd eye on the shenanigans going on. “Porthos, have you been teaching d’Artagnan properly in hand-to-hand?”

“Oui,” Porthos grinned at his captain, merriment still dancing in his eyes.

“D’Artagnan?” Treville questioned with a lift of his brow, seeing if the lad would tell him the truth of it.

“I need Porthos to take me to the Court of Miracles to learn those moves he knows,” d’Artagnan huffed. Four voices thundered back at him - *NON!* so loudly that d’Artagnan stuck a finger in his ear, wincing from the sound. “I think I just went deaf.” He didn’t believe what he suggested was so awful to bring about that type of reaction. “I’ve been to the court before,” d’Artagnan gazed at them thoroughly annoyed.

“But now you’re a prince,” Aramis reminded him.

“I’m still a Musketeer too!” d’Artagnan fired back, irritated that Aramis thought he had forgotten that little fact so soon. Rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan stomped off. “If you’re all determined to smother me in gossamer I may as well live at the palace!”

“I think d’Art’s a might pissed with us,” Porthos shared a knowing look with his brothers and Treville.

“What gave it away?” Treville snapped and went back to his office. He knew d’Artagnan’s new relationship with the royals was going to start causing problems for him. Treville didn’t think he was old enough to develop an ulcer but he could feel one coming on right about now.

“I say,” Aramis’s eyes followed their angry pup’s departure, “couldn't we have handled that a tad better?”

“Gentlemen,” Athos spoke up. “I see lots of groveling in our future if we carry on this way.”

++++

*Several weeks later*

Having been summoned to the palace had turned into an everyday occurrence lately, one that d’Artagnan happily looked forward to, much to his surprise. He was getting to know his uncle better. The only other difficulty for him had been addressing the queen as Aunt Anne. It would take time, but d'Artagnan realized that his aunt and uncle were doing their level best to make him feel part of their family.

Walking through the halls, d’Artagnan encountered Cardinal Richelieu. He immediately stopped and bowed before his Eminence. When he straightened up, d’Artagnan couldn’t exactly decipher the look on the cardinal’s face.

“D’Artagnan, this is the first time I’ve had an opportunity to speak with you since his Majesty’s found out you are Gaston’s issue.” Observing how tight lipped the young man was with him, and knowing their past relationship was rather rocky, Richelieu tried making small talk in hopes that d’Artagnan would relax more in his presence. “How do you feel about all of this?”

“The bare bones of the matter is that Alexandre d’Artagnan was my true pe’re,” d’Artagnan’s voice dipped low, not wanting all and sundry to listen in to what he had to say. He had to be careful with Richelieu, having no love for the cardinal and his deadly games.

“Oui, that I know, but now complications may arise when word gets out,” Richelieu tapped his chin in thought as he really took a good look at the boy, trying to see Gaston in him.

“You mean with my grandmother, Marie de Medici?”

“We may have had our disagreements in the past but d’Artagnan,” Richelieu paused trying to figure the best way to put this, “you’ll have to be very careful from now on.”

“A warning, Cardinal?” d’Artagnan couldn’t tell if the man was up to something with him or not.

“A piece of friendly advice from a former adversary,” Richelieu chuckled.

“Former?” that remark certainly caught d’Artagnan’s attention as nothing would. “Turning over a new leaf with me?” Not by a long shot, d’Artagnan thought.

“Marie and I have had our differences, I must say,” Richelieu announced wryly. “When she tried to steal her son’s throne Marie crossed the line," his cold eyes locked on d'Artagnan's. "I wouldn't put it past her to throw a spanner into the works or for her to try and harm you."

“I’ve had it explained to me multiple times that she can’t be trusted,” d’Artagnan countered dryly.

“Good,” Richelieu nodded and raised a hand. “Hold that thought,” he smiled slightly. “Perhaps you and I could get together another time to chat.”

“Not if I can help it,” d’Artagnan muttered as he watched the cardinal stride away. Then hearing his name called out quite loudly he turned to see his uncle rushing up to greet him.

Grabbing the boy to him Louis laughed gayly, filled with joy at seeing his nephew back in the palace, as if he hadn’t just seen him the day before “Good news just arrived by special courier,” he shook the child gently. “Gaston has written that he would like to meet you.”

Stunned and not ready to hear this so soon after discovering his true parentage, d’Artagnan turned white as a sheet.

Frowning, Louis saw the sudden change come over the lad. “I say, d’Artagnan, are you well?”

“I was until you told me that,” d’Artagnan snorted, not caring how his uncle interpreted his words.

“You are not pleased then?” Louis had been so very happy to tell the youngster about Gaston and to find out that it was not received well dampened his mood considerably.

Not wanting to get into a long drawn out discussion over this, d’Artagnan shrugged at the inevitable. “When is he due to arrive?”

“In about a month’s time,” Louis practically pranced about the hall. “It’s exciting even though Gaston can be a,” he whispered, “*royal pain*,” he giggled at his quip and heard d’Artagnan’s snicker.

“Is he coming alone?” D’Artagnan knew that Gaston’s wife had passed away but there was the daughter to be considered.

“Non. Gaston’s bringing Anne Marie Louise with him as well,” Louis clapped his hands in delight. “Won’t that be wonderful?” He hoped d’Artagnan would enjoy meeting her. Louis remembered her as a charming girl full of fun and mischief which he at times wished Anne was.

“Delightful,” d’Artagnan replied, knowing that his sarcasm was lost on Uncle Louis. “Was that all you wished to discuss with me, Uncle?”

“Non. I also wanted to tell you that when they arrive I wanted both you and Athos in attendance for dinner after Anne and I make the arrangements.”

“I will pass that invitation along to my brother.” Though d’Artagnan knew it was more a royal command than anything else and that Athos would simply say it was his duty to obey as a soldier in service to his king. Sometimes duty could be damned hard!


	4. Chapter 4

*One month later – the *Fateful* meeting*

*Athos’s apartment*

Watching d’Artagnan pace nervously around the room, Athos finally had had enough. “Come here, d’Artagnan.” He saw his little brother glance at him sideways, shoulders drooping, head hanging down. “It will not be so awful, pup.” When the younger man sluggishly dragged himself over to where Athos stood, a small huff of laughter escaped Athos. “You have all the appearance of a man awaiting execution on the gallows.” He then reached out to adjust d’Artagnan’s pauldron which was slightly askew.

“In all honesty, I would rather this meeting never take place,” d’Artagnan remarked quietly. “And how am I do address the man?” he looked to Athos for help.

“Until he tells you too I would address him as Duke for now,” Athos smiled as he could feel d’Artagnan’s muscles finally start to relax underneath his hands.

“If he wants me to call him pe’re,” d’Artagnan’s eyes filled with worry, “I do not know if I could do it.”

Putting a reassuring arm around the boy, Athos pulled him in for a gentle hug. “Do what you feel is in your heart when the time comes,” he placed his hand on d’Artagnan’s own heart and patted it for good measure.

“You always seem to know the correct thing to say,” d’Artagnan smiled shyly at his older brother.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Athos snorted. “Remember that time back at the tavern with Porthos?” Tapping his chin, Athos was trying to recall how long ago it was. “It happened several weeks ago I believe.”

D’Artagnan’s eyes widened as he did indeed remember the calamity that befell the Briarwood Tavern and Inn. “Ah, oui, I believe Porthos took exception to a comment you made about his time being a pirate and then all hell broke out.”

“My jaw ached for nearly a week after he punched me,” Athos was glad he brought the incident up as this was the most at ease the youngster’s been since King Louis informed them of Gaston’s arrival and the coming dinner tonight.

“I think the manager banned us from ever entering its doors again,” d’Artagnan chuckled.

“We have to stop carousing in that manner when we sup, otherwise there will be no place left in Paris for us to show our faces,” Athos grinned.

It was nice to keep his mind off of other things even for a little while, but d’Artagnan couldn’t hold off the inevitable for much longer. “Is it time?” He very badly wanted to stay home but Uncle Louis was adamant about d'Artagnan meeting his biological parent.

“Stop borrowing trouble,” Athos chided. He hoped that his own calm demeanor would help improve d’Artagnan’s, but he never knew how the youngster would react.

Chin jutting out, d’Artagnan’s features hardened. “Let’s get this over with then.”

And wasn’t that simply a marvelous attitude to bring to this first encounter, Athos thought as he followed the boy out the door.

++++

*The Royal Palace*

“Gaston, I do hope you’re not going to cause me any grief during this stay?” Louis eyed his brother carefully. “In the past you have gotten yourself into some very nasty business.”

“I’m afraid I cannot make any promises,” Gaston’s eyes danced as he saw Louis glare at him. “I am teasing you, brother.”

“That sort of teasing I can do without,” Louis snapped but seeing the happy smile covering Gaston’s face decided him against further warnings.

“By the way,” Gaston looked around the room, “where did Anne Marie disappear too?”

“She’s with Anne still getting dressed I believe,” Louis sighed. “Women take the deuce of a time getting ready.”

“I will agree with you on that one,” Gaston smirked as he remembered many a night he had to wait until his daughter had gone through her entire wardrobe just for the perfect dress to wear for whatever function they were to attend. 

Knowing that Louis just told himself that he’d not throw out anymore warnings, he changed his mind. “Promise me that when you meet d’Artagnan you will refrain from making any outrageous comments about Athos’s mother – Gabrielle.”

“Ah, dear Gabby,” Gason mused fondly. “She was a beauty and,” he shrugged lightly, “what can I say? Our dalliance was meant to happen.”

“That *dalliance* caused d’Artagnan’s birth,” Louis pursed his lips. “Though, as things turned out for the better,” he grinned slyly, “I’ll reap the benefits of your picadillos.”

“How so?” Gaston wondered what was behind that sneaky look Louis was giving him. When his younger brother looked at him like that it was wise to step carefully around him.

“I’m the proud uncle of a young princeling who also happens to be my very own champion.”

“Oui, you did say in your letter that d’Artagnan was the youngest man to have been added to your corps of Musketeers.” 

“And one of the finest swordsmen in France,” Louis grinned in pride, “aside from my Captain Treville and Athos of course.”

“That’s the Comte de la Fere is it not?” Gaston asked as he was already familiar with Treville. “Also d’Artagnan’s half brother I believe.”

“Correct on both counts,” Louis glanced at Anne who had just joined them in the salon with Anne Marie close beside her. “I assume this means that it is nearly time for dinner?”

“Oui, Louis,” Anne smiled indulgently at him. Since finding out that d’Artagnan was related to him through a blood tie, Louis's whole demeanor had changed and for the better in her opinion.

“Excellent!” Louis clapped his hands. “That means d’Artagnan and Athos should be arriving about now.”

One of the footmen came into the room and approached the king. “Sire, your nephew Charles d’Artagnan and the Comte de la Fere have arrived.”

“I say, good timing that,” Louis nodded. “Show them both in.” He was going to keep a close eye on Gaston to gauge his brother’s reaction upon meeting the youngster. This should prove quite entertaining.

++++

It was with more than some trepidation that d’Artagnan entered the salon. Athos ever steady by his side gave him a prodding nudge in the back which nearly made d’Artagnan stumble through the open doors. Scowling over at his brother he hissed, “Thank you so very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Athos smirked while trying to keep a straight face, when all he wanted to do was tease the lad over this unusual show of nerves. It was so unlike the d’Artagnan he knew. Perhaps once they get past the introductions the pup will settle down.

As they entered the great salon where they were to dine, Athos sharp eyes instantly focused on the duke. It had been a long while since he had last seen him in Paris. Athos wondered, as he knew his Majesty did, if Gaston would linger this visit and try to get to know his son better. Or would he take one look at d’Artagnan to see what Gabrielle had produced just to depart the next day?

++++

As soon as d’Artagnan and Athos made their entrance, Gaston sucked in his breath as he took in the tall, slim build of the youth. The dark brown hair and eyes combined with d’Artagnan’s carriage all reminded Gaston so very much of himself at that age that it hurt to look at the boy. But the bone structure of the lad’s face was all his dear Gabby’s.

“Have I passed inspection?” were the first curt words to sprout from d’Artagnan’s smart mouth, which earned him a steamy look and a kick in the shins from Athos.

“Do I have to remind you to behave,” Athos hissed in the youngster's ear. The glance d’Artagnan sent his way made Athos wince. If this was a sign as to how the evening were to proceed, Athos felt like turning right around to leave d’Artagnan to his own devices.

“Do not worry so, Comte,” Gaston acknowledged with a small smile. “I do not blame d’Artagnan for his attitude.” Gaston’s gaze softened the more he looked at the younger man. “There’s no doubt you are of my blood,” he remarked firmly. “You have the same look about you as myself and mon cheri amour Gabby.”

Twisting his head to look back at Athos, d’Artagnan mouthed - *Gabby*?”

“I have never heard my maman referred to in that manner before,” Athos was surprised at the nickname for he would never have thought it suited her.

“Non,” Gaston shook his head. “I doubt anyone ever had the nerve to call her that to her face but for me.”

“Sure of your charms were you?” d’Artagnan snorted and this time suffered a light cuff to the back of his head from Athos. D’Artagnan could have sworn he heard a young girl’s laughter in the background just then but was too upset to find out who it belonged too.

“Forgive d’Artagnan for he seems to have left his wits and manners back in Gascony,” Athos stern tone and icy stare were meant for the impudent whelp but were intercepted by a pair of twinkling brown eyes belonging to the duke’s daughter, Anne Marie Louise.

Joining the men, Anne Marie hooked her arm into that of her newly discovered half-brother. “I for one find it a refreshing change to hear someone speak their own mind,” she locked eyes with a startled d’Artagnan.

“Ummmm... er... hel - hello,” d’Artagnan stuttered out as he felt himself blush. He was amazed by her unexpected championship on his behalf. 

“D’Artagnan,” Louis thought this a most opportune time to interrupt before his nephew challenged Gaston to a duel right here in the salon. Interesting though that may be it wasn’t the done thing to do when one met their father for the first time. Bless Anne Marie for her timely intervention. “Won’t you and the others please sit down now. I do believe dinner is about to be served and I am famished.”

Everyone made their way over to the royal couple as Louis indicated for d’Artagnan to sit between himself and Anne while he left it up to Athos to sit where he pleased. Gaston and his daughter were sitting opposite everyone which gave them an excellent advantage to view d’Artagnan.

“D’Artagnan,” Anne Marie grinned, “seems that you’ve gained a pair of siblings within a span of a month’s time.” Glancing at Athos, who decided to sit beside the king, she gave him a saucy wink. Anne Marie giggled at the stunned look Athos sent her. You would have thought that no one had ever bothered to flirt with the man before. Perhaps she might set her cap for the handsome Musketeer. Anne Marie would have to corner d'Artagnan later and grill him for information. How else was a girl to find herself a beau?

“Oui,” d’Artagnan slowly smiled back at her. “I think it’s the only part so far that I’m pleased about.”

“Mon dieu!” Athos muttered low but Queen Anne’s shoulders began to shake in silent laughter as she leaned over to whisper to him. “On the contrary, this is the most stimulating conversation I've heard at the dinner table in ages. I’m usually bored to death by the talk of politics.”

Grimacing, Athos threw her an exasperated look. “I don’t know what devil is riding that boy tonight, but I expected better of him than this.”

“I find myself siding with d’Artagnan,” Queen Anne admitted and she could tell her words took Athos by complete surprise.

While d’Artagnan and Anne Marie chattered back and forth, Louis was bemused at the fact that his nephew was enjoying his newly found half-sister’s company over that of Gaston’s. Then again, Louis thought if he were in the boy’s shoes he’d probably feel the same way. God only knew that Gaston’s actions had deeply disappointed him in the past and that it took something like this to happen to bring him back to Paris. It was certainly better this way than having Gaston come back to be hung or beheaded for crimes against the crown.

“You resent me, d’Artagnan?” It was more a statement than a question as Gaston slowly savored his Anjou wine.

“I don’t know you well enough to form an opinion about that as yet,” d’Artagnan countered with a sideways glance at Athos, who seemed ready to reach over his Aunt Anne and box d’Artagnan’s ears.

A shout of laughter escaped Gaston at the boy’s words. “By God, child! You sound so much like I did at your age that it’s truly astounding!”

“Was that an insult?” d’Artagnan stiffened as he heard his Uncle Louis snort loudly.

“I believe that was a comparison,” Queen Anne offered with a fond look at her young nephew.

“I've been told you’re something of an expert with a sword.” Gaston couldn’t wait to hear what came out of his son’s mouth next. D’Artagnan’s brother seemed fit to be tied and looked positively lethal as Athos glowered at the boy.

“It earned me my commission to the Musketeers,” d’Artagnan replied smoothly, trying to not run off at the mouth anymore than necessary for d’Artagnan realized he was in for a major tongue-lashing when he got back home.

“Please explain,” Anne Marie was truly interested in getting to know d’Artagnan better and was curious how one so young ended up becoming a Musketeer. Listening to d’Artagnan relate the events that turned him from an ordinary farm boy from Gascony to the elevated status of a King’s Musketeer, Anne Marie was proud to call him her brother.

As Gaston listened well to his son’s tale, he realized what Gabby’s actions had cost him. Having no other children than his wonderful daughter, Gaston would have counted himself lucky to have had a son of d’Artagnan’s caliber under his roof. But Gabby kept the child a secret from him for her own reasons Gaston assumed. Unless her husband had found out and threatened to disown her lest she give up the babe. That part had been left out of Louis's letter but perhaps Athos could clear up a few details for him. He would try to speak with him on the matter later.

Still, Gaston wished Gabby had written to him of d’Artagnan’s birth. If she couldn’t or wouldn’t take care of the babe then he had the right to have been notified so he could have made his own choice in regards to the child’s welfare. Water under the damn bridge now! Gaston only hoped that d’Artagnan would slowly open up to him the longer he was around and perhaps begin the building of a new bridge between them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BTW, this has nothing to do with this story but for any of my readers here that read Crossroads, Chapter 25 went up several days ago. There was a glitch and the story went down really far in the list so you may have missed it (grins and rolls eyes).
> 
> Onto chapter 5 of this story now.
> 
> ++++

*Athos’s apartment after the dinner at the palace*

Removing his leathers, Athos flung his clothes on the bed as he was still trying to digest d’Artagnan’s absurd behavior at dinner. The boy had acted like a petulant child. As he continued to undress Athos could hear the youngster rattling around in the outer rooms. Athos hadn’t said a word to him on their way back home. He was too upset and feared he’d let loose with hurtful words. As he pulled on his nightshirt there was a soft knocking on the bedroom door. He called out, “Entre.” Seeing d’artagnan hesitate in the entranceway, Athos waved the lad inside.

“Should I bend over now or later,” d’Artagmam asked softly. 

His mind going totally blank, Athos wasn’t quite sure what d’Artagnan had meant. It had been a long night after all.

“Athos, please!” d’Artagnan implored, biting his lip in anticipation of the punishment to come. “Or are you going to torment me by having me wait?”

Running hands through his hair, Athos was confused by the boy’s question. Then hazarding a guess as to what it was, he cocked an eyebrow. Athos was hurt that d’Artagnan would think he’d take a strap to him. “Mon dieu! Your behavior tonight does deserve some form of punishment but not in the manner of which you refer.”

“You have my deepest apologies for the way I conducted myself,” d’Artagnan sat on Athos’s bed, hunched over, staring at the floor. “I know that I shouldn’t really be mad at Gaston since it was your mother that kept my birth a secret from him.”

Sitting beside the boy, Athos looked down on d'Artagnan's bent head. “Gabrielle was your mother as well,” he reminded the lad gently. “And it is not to me you owe apologies.”

“I know and at the first opportunity I will give them to Uncle Louis and Gaston,” d’Artagnan grimaced, lifting his head slightly to look at his brother. He really wasn't looking forward to doing that but realized he must. “And on the point of your mother,” d’Artagnan threw Athos a disparaging glance, “you knew her, not me.”

“True,” Athos noted ruefully. “*Our*", he emphasized the word, "mother hurt a lot of people by keeping you a secret.”

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” d’Artagnan snorted and heard Athos sigh.

Ruffling the youngster’s hair, Athos stood up. “It is to be hoped that tomorrow will find you in better humor.”

When d’Artagnan also got up, he smirked. “Better be on guard, Athos.”

Frowning, Athos gave the boy a bewildered look. “Against what?”

“Not a what… but a she.”

“Ah! You mean your sister.” Athos lips twitched remembering how Anne Marie flirted outrageously with him during dinner.

“I think she intends to set her cap for you,” d’Artagnan laughed at the dawning horror growing on his brother’s face.

“Anne Marie’s too young for me,” Athos pointed out.

“Tell that to her,” d’Artagnan winked at him. “Somehow I doubt it will make a lick of difference.”

Putting a hand to his head, Athos shook it. “This is all giving me a headache.”

“And to think you didn’t have a whole bottle of wine either,” d’Artagnan quipped, ducking out of the way as Athos threw a pillow at him.

“Go to bed, pup,” Athos grinned.

“Yes, sir.”

“Impudent little brat,” Athos grumbled as he settled down for the night.

++++

*Next day – garrison courtyard*

Observing his son sparring with Aramis and then Porthos, Gaston perched himself on the bench beside Athos. “D’Artagnan’s good.”

“He will be the greatest of all of us with time,” Athos offered sincerely.

“You had a hand in his training I understand?”

“Oui, along with Aramis and Porthos.” Athos looked on with pride as d’Artagnan let out a loud *whoop* when the boy knocked Porthos on his ass. “Porthos, you going to let d’Artagnan get away with that?” he hollered out to his large friend.

“Nah, just letting the whelp look good in front of his father,” Porthos deep voice rumbled as d’Artagnan helped him get back on his feet. Hearing their youngest snort at his words, he growled, “Now, boyo, you’re gonna get it.”

“Ooooh, be scared, d’Artagnan, be very scared” Aramis laughed, clapping his hands in delight of the performance being put on for Gaston’s benefit. Walking over, he joined the other two men on the bench. “Duke,” Aramis acknowledged with a friendly dip of his head.

Athos saw Gaston smile back in return then noticed the pleasant expression slowly change. He wondered what was behind that strange look the duke wore as he watched d'Artagnan. Athos wanted to ask if all was well but thought it better not to inquire. The duke may not want to share his thoughts with relative strangers anyway.

“If you really want to see a match, Duke,” Aramis’s eyes sparkled, “watch Athos take on d’Artagnan.”

“My interest is peaked,” Gaston said with a look over at Athos.

“Very well.” Athos called a halt to Porthos attempting to wipe the courtyard with their youngest. “The Duke would like to see our pup in action.”

“What da ya call what we’ve been doin’ for the past half hour?” Porthos growled as he came over. He was sweating profusely as it was hot outside.

“Warming up,” Aramis chortled and handed Porthos a skin of water as well as a towel to dry himself off with.

“May I ask why you call d’Artagnan a pup?” Gaston’s eyes were laughing though he dared not chuckle out loud for fear of angering his son further. He did not need a repeat performance of last night.

“He looks like one,” Porthos grunted, taking a sip of the cool water. Then he poured the rest on top of his head, making Aramis jump aside as Porthos shook the water from his wet hair.

“Porthos,” d’Artagnan whined, rolling his eyes.

“Oui,” Gaston nodded in agreement, “I see what you mean.”

“D’Artagnan,” Athos strode over to the youngster, “ready?”

“When am I not?” d’Artagnan’s smug tone made Aramis snort, while the latter scowled at Porthos for getting water on his doublet.

“Engarde then,” Athos grinned, relishing the match to come and knowing that the duke would be impressed with the lad's technique.

The two men put on quite a performance for Gaston. He was simply amazed at how skilled his young son actually was. The way d'Artagnan danced lightly around Athos as the sounds of steel on steel rang through the air, reminded Gaston of a young gazelle running wild. Then when Gaston thought the boy had fallen to the ground, much to his surprise d'Artagnan swiped his blade at Athos from his low position making the older man jump back or risk getting run through. After that d'Artagnan immediately stood up again and continued his attack.

When Athos and d’Artagnan had saluted each other at the end of the session, both men re-joined the others. Gaston had only words of praise for d’Artagnan as the young man came to stand beside him. “You fight like a man twice your age,” he clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Bravo!”

Shrugging Gaston’s hand off as delicately as he could without causing offense, d’Artagnan dipped his head. “My thanks,” he offered an easy smile in the other’s direction. A sideways look at Athos told him that his brother wasn’t very pleased with the way he backed away from Gaston’s touch.

“They have all instructed you well,” Gaston wondered at the frown that pulled at the boy's face.

“My pe’re had quite a lot to do with my training as I grew older. Since I was a petite garcon, Alexandre d’Artagnan had been an excellent teacher.”

“I meant no offense,” Gascon glanced at Athos for some help, not missing the point d’Artagnan was trying to make.

"Did you notice the movement d'Artagnan executed when he went to ground?" Athos asked as he tried to ease the tension he sensed was building in their young one.

"Oui, at first I believed he had fallen but saw how mistaken I was," Gaston's eyes flicked to the boy who had turned away to get a drink of water from Aramis.

"We call that d'Artagnan's signature move," Aramis added with a grin. "He's the only one who can do it."

"He's the only one *young* enough to drop that easily and get back up and still stay alive," Porthos pulled d'Artagnan in with a one arm hug.

"It is also a deadly move when d'Artagnan uses it." Aramis grinned as he threw a towel in d'Artagnan's direction to see it nearly hit the boy in the face as d'Artagnan didn't see it coming his way. 

"It was something to see and I thank all of you for letting me watch your practice session." Gaston saw d'Artagnan walking toward him and wondered at the worry he saw in the child's eyes.

"I meant to apologize to you for my attitude last night at dinner," d'Artagnan tried to appear contrite.

Waving the apology away, Gaston was relieved this was all that was on the young man's mind. "If I were in your shoes I would have felt the same way," he smiled. "But I thank you all the same for your words."

“Duke, I hate to interrupt, but I believe your daughter is trying to get your attention,” Athos pointed over to where the young woman was standing halfway across the courtyard waving at them. He thought it was well timed before d’Artagnan decided to say something he shouldn't and insert his foot in his mouth again.

“I shall return shortly, gentlemen,” Gaston left them for a moment.

Watching Gaston depart, d’Artagnan released a breath he had been holding in. He just wasn’t comfortable in the man’s company and wondered if he ever would be. Well it looked like he wouldn't have to worry about that for now anyway as he observed Gaston heading back to the palace. It was Anne Marie instead who came back their way. “Has something happened?” d’Artagnan asked as he gazed into her pretty features.

Taking d’Artagnan by the arm, Ann Marie seemed quite nervous. Nothing like the carefree girl she had portrayed last evening. There were no words to sugarcoat her news so she just blurted it out. “Grandmama has arrived.”

“What?” all the inseparables cried out as one so loudly that several Musketeers who were in the courtyard stopped to look around thinking trouble was afoot.

“Marie de Medici is here… now?” D’Artagnan nearly squeaked out that last word. Here he was hoping, along with Uncle Louis, that there would be some breathing room before his grandmother appeared on the scene.

“I was praying this meeting would be a long way off.” Athos worried gaze encountered that of his brothers-in-arms who appeared as equally concerned.

“Perhaps the captain has an assignment for us?” D’Artagnan glanced hopefully over at Athos for confirmation.

“Somebody has a big mouth,” Porthos remarked in a gravely voice, "that she found out already.”

“The palace does have eyes and ears everywhere,” Aramis remarked dryly.

“Oui, this should have been expected,” Athos reluctantly agreed with them.

“Uncle Louis was most displeased to see her,” Anne Marie’s normally vivacious nature seemed to have disappeared altogether as she remembered her grandmama’s unannounced arrival at the palace. Uncle Louis looked like he was going to have a fit right there in the throne room. Thank the good lord for Anne's calm presence at the time or it might have happened.

“Did anyone hear what I just asked concerning a mission?” d’Artagnan huffed in annoyance as it seemed no one was paying him the slightest attention.

“I did,” Porthos barked. “And that would be a no. Nothin' happenin’ that needs tendin’ too by the likes of us yet, boyo,” he shrugged. “Sad to say," he tacked on with a wince.

“Ah, well,” d’Artagnan scratched the back of his head. Staring in the direction of the palace again, he worried about the coming meeting with his grandmother.


	6. Chapter 6

*Royal Palace*

Marie de Medici never waited for people, she made them wait for her. Crossing her arms, tapping her right foot impatiently, Marie then began pacing the great throne room waiting for the appearance of her son Louis. He was either late or perhaps she was early, either way Marie was furious over the current affairs that had been kept from her of another bastard by her troublesome son Gaston. Oh, it was true in the past that he had helped her in some of her more venturesome political intrigues. However lately they never saw eye to eye, and Marie had put great distance between them. The same could be said of her relationship with Cardinal Richelieu. At one time they sided with one another but now Marie wouldn’t put it past him to have her assassinated just to get her out of the way.

Wondering where she had failed with both her sons, Marie’s eyes glittered with malice. If it hadn’t been for a well placed spy in Louis’s court she’d still be in the dark. Well, she wanted to meet this d’Artagnan to see for herself if the boy could become a stumbling block to her plans. Marie had failed once in trying to overthrow Louis’s reign and she had begged piteously on bended knee in front of him so as not to lose her precious head. In turn, Marie had been banished from Paris but she could still talk a good game and wormed her way around Louis through various letters Marie exchanged with him. With Louis’s sometimes kind heart, and against the advice of his First Minister of France, Richelieu, Louis had relented on his decree. So from time to time he allowed Marie’s presence at the palace.

This time Marie didn’t wait about for a royal invitation, regardless of what Louis thought. Finally hearing footsteps approaching, Marie observed the huge double doors open to admit both her sons. All right, Marie thought, this was a surprise. Her informant failed to apprise Marie of this little detail in his last missive. Now she had to deal with two sons at the same time, and my they did seem cozy together. She wondered how that came about.

“Mother,” Louis nodded in acknowledgment, a frown marred his features. He was not pleased to see her and let it be known. “I do not remember extending an invitation to you recently.”

Chuckling softly, Marie held her son’s stern gaze. “And it is nice to see you too, Louis,” she tutted, not put out in the slightest at such an unwelcome greeting. “I heard some interesting bits of gossip lately and just had to come here to find out for myself if it were true.” Clasping her hands together in front of her, it didn’t escape Marie’s shrewd gaze at how close Gaston was standing beside Louis, almost providing a unified front. What? Against her? Mon dieu! That would be a first for them. What the deuce did they think they were playing at? “Dropping royal bastards all over the place lately aren’t you, Gaston?” she remarked snidely.

Gaston always likened his mother to a rare form of poison from which there was no cure. Never much of a mother to him or his brothers, once he was old enough Gaston couldn’t wait to get out from under her demanding thumb. He sometimes wondered how his father, Henry, had put up with her. Oui, he too had let his mother involve him in some of her plots for which Gaston was ever grateful he still had his head attached. “Do you honestly expect an answer to that?” Gaston’s eyes narrowed as they studied her.

Pouting, Marie looked about the room. “So, where is this boy?”

“My nephew was sparring out in the courtyard with his fellow Musketeers,” Louis went to sit on his throne. With a nod to Gaston he indicated for his brother to join him on the dais, in the chair usually meant for Anne.

Puzzled by Louis’s answer, Marie wondered what in the world this youngster was doing mingling with common soldiers.

Marie’s unspoken thoughts projected over to her sons. Both of whom realized that whatever intel she had acquired, Marie didn’t get the complete story.

“Mother, d’Artagnan is a Musketeer,” Louis explained, holding back his mirth at her stunned expression. “And I must say, rather proudly in fact,” Louis grinned at Gaston, “that he is also the King’s Champion.”

Digesting this piece of unwelcome information, Marie’s thoughts scattered. Mon dieu! What is the world coming too? D’Artagnan was a soldier in her son’s service. This would never do!

“Now, now, mother,” Gaston smirked at the horror he saw clearly written on her face. “Tis not the end of the world. As it turns out d’Artagnan’s half brother is the Comte de la Fere. That should make you feel much better,” Gaston's lips twitched as it looked like his mother was going to faint.

“I need to sit down,” Marie didn’t welcome feeling off balanced. She never walked into anything without being armed with a plan. Marie will be having a word with that spy in her pay about leaving pertinent information out of his letters. “The child’s mother?”

“Gabrielle de la Fere,” Gaston supplied. If she said one vile word against his dear Gabby he may lose control of himself and throttle her. He knew from past conversations with Louis that his brother had oftentimes felt the very same way whenever in mother’s lovely company.

“This young man has the royal birthmark?” Marie looked at them both for confirmation and at twin nods to her, Marie’s lips tightened. “Well then I’d like to meet my grandson.”

++++

*Cardinal Richelieu’s office*

“She’s here!” Richelieu barked in shock as he was just informed of Marie de Medici’s arrival by one of his Red Guards. Grumbling to himself about ill timed visits, Richelieu waved the guard away while he changed into something more appropriate. Mon dieu! He’ll have to keep one eye on d’Artagnan and one eye on Marie as long as that viper’s in residence. Richelieu also thought that he’d better keep his personal physician on hand just in case. He felt that he may be in need of the man’s services before very long.

*Athos’s apartment*

“How do I look?” D’Artagnan first glanced at his brother for approval and then at Anne Marie.

“Like the King’s Champion should,” Athos’s deep voice encouraged a shy smile to blossom on the boy’s face. He had helped d'Artagnan adjust his pauldron for him and made sure the pup's blue cloak laid just so on his shoulder.

“The only thing missing,” Anne Marie tapped her chin, “is your hat.” Looking around the room she only spotted Athos’s. “Where is it?”

Sheepishly grinning at her, d’Artagnan ducked his head. “I do not wear one.”

“Why forever not?” Anne Marie stared at Athos’s amused expression.

“Something to do with it messing up d’Artagnan’s cheveu,” Athos explained with a straight face.

Covering her mouth with a hand, Anne Marie stifled her laughter. “Here I thought only women were vain about their cheveu.”

“Please,” d’Artagnan pleaded with his eyes, “both of you cease your enjoyment at my expense.”

“I think the lad’s a tad nervous,” Athos remarked, his blue eyes twinkling as he glanced in Anne Marie’s direction, making her giggle.

“There is only one reason why Marie de Medici is here,” d’Artagnan remarked. “We all know that I will be summoned any minute to present myself before her.”

“Never fear, my newly found brother,” Anne Marie announced cheerfully. “I shall protect you.”

D’Artagnan made a scornful sound at Athos’s loud shout of laughter at her words.

“Let us make our way to the palace now, d’Artagnan,” Anne Marie’s eyes still sparkled with merriment. “Instead of waiting for a royal command.” She glanced at d’Artagnan’s serious face and shook her head. “For I do not think you’ll be in any shape to meet grandmama if we linger here much longer.”

Laughing still, Athos ushered the children out the door.

++++

*Royal Palace*

A page had rushed into the throne room and approached the king to whisper something in his Majestie’s ear. Then as the king waved him away, the boy scurried off.

“It would appear that d’Artagnan anticipated my royal call and awaits our pleasure as we speak.” Louis was pleased that his nephew took it upon himself to take that first step.

Gaston looked at his brother in confusion. “I thought you told me that since finding out d’Artagnan’s your nephew that the lad could come and go as he pleased within the palace.”

“Oui, I did,” Louis quietly chuckled. “But I cannot seem to break d’Artagnan from old habits.”

“Ah!” Gaston nodded in complete understanding of the protocol d’Artagnan adhered to still.

“Quit dawdling and get that child in here so I can see him!” Marie snapped out her order as if it was her right to do so.

Standing up, Louis gave his mother a royal glare. “You forget yourself, Madame!” Slowly sitting back down, Louis made sure she remembered who was in command. “Need I remind you that I receive you here on sufferance only?”

Bowing her head in a respect she didn’t feel, Marie tried to look repentant but apparently didn’t succeed if the amusement in Gaston’s eyes was anything to go by.

“You still do not do *humble* well, mother,” Gaston chortled as she scowled at him.

With a nod at his guards, Louis waited for his men to admit d’Artagnan inside.

When d’Artagnan appeared, he was flanked on either side by Athos and Anne Marie.

“Protection?” Gaston leaned over and whispered to his brother.

“The child may need it,” Louis murmured back.

Seeing a much older woman approaching him, d’Artagnan swallowed hard. This was his grandmother, he had to keep telling himself. Though whenever d’Artagnan spent time in the palace he had overheard several guards and various members of the household staff refer to Marie de Medici as that *royal bitch*. No wonder his nerves were raw with worry. D’Artagnan stood perfectly still as she drew closer. Bowing before her, he watched as she made a complete circle around him.

“Does he pass inspection?” Gaston’s droll voice filled the silence in the room.

Turning to face Gaston, Marie’s face was a study of confusion. “He doesn’t look a thing like you.”

“I suggest you invest in a pair of spectacles,” Gaston retorted dryly. “D’Artagnan is the picture of myself at that age. Grant you he resembles Gabby more in the face than I.”

Raising an eyebrow at the woman’s name, Marie then focused her attention on Athos.

“Oh, oh,” Anne Marie moaned quietly into Athos’s ear. “The inquisition will now commence.”


	7. Chapter 7

*Royal Palace*

“You are the Comte de la Fere, are you not?” Marie de Medici looked down her nose at this man. If not for his mother, Gabrielle de la Fere, d’Artagnan would never have been conceived. Mores the pity as far as she was concerned.

“Oui, Madame,” Athos inclined his head. “However I do not use that title here.”

“Non,” Marie sneered in distaste. “You prefer to play at being a soldier instead.”

“Grandmama,” Anne Marie interrupted before things really turned nasty, which she didn’t feel was too far away for comfort. “I hardly call what Monsieur Athos does as *playing*,” Anne Marie smiled at her grandmother, trying to defuse an already volatile atmosphere. “He’s Captain Treville’s lieutenant after all.”

“Ah!” Marie observed Athos with great interest again. “A most lofty position, I assume,” she tilted her head thoughtfully. “Still one wonders why a man with your privileged background would give up your wealth, lands and title to become a Musketeer.”

“It is a common enough story,” Athos commented. “You will find many a noble among us,” he allowed himself a slight smile. “And I did not give up my title,” he shrugged lightly. “In my given profession there is no need for it, and I do draw from my wealth occasionally.”

“I’m sure there is more to it than that,” Marie said snidely, knowing Athos was hiding something perhaps more sinister. If so, she would find out eventually. “Aside from your poor decision to become a Musketeer, it would seem because of your mother’s past affair with my son you have now gained a brother.” She drew closer to Athos and stopped a foot away from him. “You must be pleased.”

“Immensely,” was Athos’s clipped response. He was becoming quite annoyed at the woman and Athos could tell that d’Artagnan was beginning to worry by the overly anxious look on d'Artagnan's face.

“It was bad timing when your father chose to go on his hunting trip when Gaston was on his way to meet Louis in Paris.” Marie clasped her hands tightly together for fear she would forget herself and choke the life out of the boy standing so insecurely behind Athos. “Perhaps then your mother and Gaston would never have met.”

“On the contrary,” Athos countered, “I congratulate them both on their choices.” Athos dearly would have loved to let loose his mirth at the expression that now crossed Marie de Medici’s face. “Otherwise d’Artagnan would never have been born.” Athos caught his younger brother’s eye and threw him a quick wink, making d’Artagnan grin and breathe easier. “And knowing the lad as well as I do now... that would have been the greater tragedy.”

Sniffing in disdain, Marie actually glowered at Athos before turning her back on him and marching directly toward her target once more... d’Artagnan. Once again she took in the child’s features, shaking her head woefully that the boy didn't even resemble her in the slightest.

“We should rescue d’Artagnan before grandmama truly sinks her claws into him,” Anne Marie whispered into Athos’s ear.

“How do you propose we go about it without raising Madame’s suspicions?” Athos’s lips quirked upward. He had to admit that Anne Marie was an enjoyable companion compared to some of the other boring ladies of the court. Athos found himself truly astounded that he was taken in by her charms. He thought himself immune to such nonsense after his disastrous marriage to Anne.

“You are not the only one who is good at maneuvers,” Anne Marie batted her long eyelashes coyly.

“I bow to a wiser head than mine,” Athos chuckled and was pleased to see her grin impishly back.

Breezing past her grandmother, Anne Marie took d’Artagnan by the arm. “I simply must ask you something before grandmama keeps you all to herself.”

“I am at your disposal,” d’Artagnan hid his smile as he walked off with her. Thank God for Anne Marie’s timing. He was worried about being grilled by his grandmother and was glad for anything to put that moment off.

“My daughter is a wise woman,” Gaston murmured as he went to stand beside Athos. “Anne Marie knows how to ward off trouble.”

“As in your mother?” Athos’s muffled laughter caused Gaston to chuckle as well.

“Oui,” Gaston agreed. But he knew this was just a stalling tactic. His mother would corner d’Artagnan no doubt at dinner later which Louis had just informed him of.

“We’ll both keep close to d’Artagnan in case he needs our help,” Athos offered. He did not like the way Madame was looking at d’Artagnan. It did not bode well he thought grimly.

“There’s to be a dinner later,” Gaston told him and could tell this wasn’t completely welcome news to Athos. “Let’s try to beat my mother to the punch,” his eyes gleamed with devilment. “Let’s sit on either side of the boy. This way d’Artagnan can enjoy his meal without my dear mother breathing down his neck.”

“I now see where Anne Marie gets it from,” Athos announced wryly, causing Gaston to roll his eyes in amusement.

++++

*Dinner is served*

“I get the feeling I’m on tonight’s menu,” d’Artagnan leaned over whispering to Athos.

“Nonsense,” Athos scoffed. “I’ve heard many things about your grandmother but cannibalism was not among them.”

“Very funny,” d’Artagnan scowled. Then hearing Gaston’s snort coming from the other side of him, d’Artagnan realized the older man had heard his words. Turning his head, d’Artagnan stared into Gaston's amused face. 

“D’Artagnan,” Louis was happy that up until now no fighting had broken out. He was pleased but knew it wouldn’t last forever. Louis could tell that by the way his mother’s shifty gaze roamed over d’Artagnan. He prayed his mother would restrain herself but knew from past experience that she wouldn’t remain passive for much longer.

Cardinal Richelieu made sure he was part of the dinner arrangements. After all he needed to keep a watchful eye on Marie’s activities as long as that woman was around. Especially her actions toward d’Artagnan. He may have to order several of his Red Guards to observeMarie's whereabouts at all times. That may be the safest bet in the long run.

“D’Artagnan,” Marie finally caught the boy’s attention. “What brought you to Paris in the first place?”

Casting a helpless look at Athos, d’Artagnan really didn’t feel like rehashing old history. Especially when it was a painful topic for him to discuss. However, d’Artagnan realized his grandmother was curious, which was to be expected. So he found himself going through the motions of explaining how he wound up here. By the time d’Artagnan finished, what appetite he had was long gone, and all he could do was push food around on his plate.

Nearly everyone at the table, save Marie and the cardinal, felt badly for d’Artagnan having to relive that time over again of his father’s loss.

“I wish I could have met the d'Artagnans,” Gaston stated honestly. “I'm sure you've exceeded their expectations,” he offered his son a look of genuine affection, making d’Artagnan’s complexion flush red as the youngster ducked his head shyly.

“I lost maman when I was nearly eight years of age,” d’Artagnan said softly, his eyes sad. “All pe’re and I had were each other after that,” his eyes began to fill with unshed tears. “I miss him more than I can say.” Feeling a comforting arm hug him close, d’Artagnan was shocked to find himself leaning into Gaston’s warm embrace.

Watching the oh so touching display, Marie’s eyes narrowed fractionally in controlled anger. She would not let things carry on this way for much longer.

++++

*Aramis’s apartment*

“Think d’Artagnan and Athos are enjoyin' themselves?” Porthos happily drank the remaining wine Aramis generously had supplied.

“How could they not?” Aramis smiled at his friend. “Dinner at the palace, their Majesties in attendance, the pretty Anne Marie for company as well...”

“Add Marie de Medici to that mix...” Porthos arched one eyebrow high.

“Ah,” Aramis rubbed the back of his neck, “that would be a case for bad indigestion I’m afraid.”

“That’s what I thought,” Porthos snorted, finishing his drink. “What cha’ think about Gaston?”

“As long as he doesn’t try to remove d’Artagnan from our brotherhood I’m fine with him.” Aramis had pushed that worry to the back of his mind the moment they all had found out Gaston was on his way to Paris. There was always concern that the man may try to persuade d’Artagnan to come live with him.

“Ya think he could?” Porthos frowned. He’d have a right fight on his hands if Gaston tried to take their whelp from them.

“For one thing, Athos wouldn’t stand for it,” Aramis grinned. “I’d lay good money that our brother would challenge Gaston to a duel over it.”

“They’d have to do it behind the king’s back since it’s outlawed,” Porthos smiled. Many a Musketeer kept in good practice dueling with Red Guards without the king’s knowledge.

“Let’s not worry more upon how are friends are doing,” Aramis commented, rubbing his hands together. “How about a game of cards?” He held up a finger. “No cheating because I’ll know.”

“Fine by me,” Porthos agreed. “After all, how bad could their dinner be?”

++++

*Royal Palace... after dinner*

“How much longer must we linger here?” d’Artagnan quietly whined to Athos.

“Until the king retires first,” Athos grimaced for he too couldn’t take much more of Madame’s frosty attitude toward them.

“Maybe I could claim to be unwell,” d’Artagnan offered. “It would be the truth.” Seeing Athos’s shoulders begin to shake, d’Artagnan elbowed him in the side. “Stop that,” he hissed.

“Apologies,” Athos’s eyes showed anything but he was sorry for his mirth. “But your face when you said that was a picture.”

“Picture?” Anne Marie popped around them, seemingly coming out of nowhere. “What picture?”

“None that you would be interested in,” Athos remarked with a pointed look d’Artagnan’s way.

“Ah!” Anne Marie nodded her lovely head in understanding. Facing d’Artagnan, she put a hand on his arm. “Tomorrow would you mind showing me the streets of Paris.”

“If I am not on the duty roster then I would look forward to the opportunity,” d’Artagnan liked Anne Marie and found himself coming to grips that he had a sister now. Wanting to put Athos in the hot seat, he couldn’t resist teasing. “I would have thought Athos’s company more suitable for you.” It’s a wonder he didn’t disintegrate right there and then from the glowering look his brother just gave him.

“I’d have enjoyed that very much,” Anne Marie pouted, “but I know he is a busy man.”

“Oh,” d’Artagnan’s eyes twinkled, “and I am not?”

“Oui,” she laughed. “But I knew Uncle Louis would grant you nearly anything within reason while father and I are getting acquainted with you.”

Tipping his head in her direction, Athos acknowledged her intellect. This was not a dim witted woman. Then, before he knew it, King Louis claimed d’Artagnan for the rest of the evening while it seemed to him that Marie de Medici quietly seethed at the table.

Calming herself with a sip of wine, Marie’s eyes then entangled with Richelieu’s. Ah, Armand, she chuckled silently. What’s going on in that devious, dark mind of yours? Marie nodded her head at him and saw the gesture returned. She was sure his Eminence would corner her at some point to see what, if anything, she could possibly be plotting. Well, the plots were already dancing in her head... for d’Artagnan’s death.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See my note at the end of this chapter.
> 
> ++++

*Next Day*

Having been given the entire morning and part of the afternoon off, d’Artagnan and Anne Marie took in the sights of Paris. He brought her to shops more suitable for a young lady of her standing, which Anne Marie took great delight in.

Wondering how one woman could single handedly clean out an entire store of its merchandise, d’Artagnan found himself balancing numerous packages and bags full of her purchases. Anne Marie held the door to the carriage open for him so d’Artagnan could deposit them on the empty seat and floor.

Clapping her hands, Anne Marie’s delightful laughter sounded like the tinkling of chimes as it filled the air. She then in turn put her arm through d’Artagnan’s and steered him away from their coach. “Where to next?”

“Bakery perhaps?” D’Artagnan’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, making Anne Marie chuckle.

“Why do we not stop at that tavern we passed by for some lunch first?” Anne suggested and then pouted as a frown formed around d’Artagnan’s mouth. “What?”

“A common tavern… you?” he cocked one eyebrow and folded his arms as d’Artagnan stared at her in disbelief.

“I’m not bothered by listening to coarse language or seeing rough looking men milling about.”

“Okay,” d’Artagnan simply shrugged. If she ended up having her sensibilities offended, Anne Marie only had herself to blame. “There’s Le Francais Chat that my friends and I go to sometimes.” He pointed down the street. “It’s a few blocks away from here.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Anne Marie talked to the driver of their carriage to make sure he knew to stay put and not strand them, as she chose to walk with d’Artagnan to the tavern.

++++

*Le Francais Chat Tavern*

“D’Artagnan, the food here is quite tasty,” Anne Marie announced in surprise as she ate a savory stew.

“See what you’ve been missing?” he teased as d’Artagnan sipped his glass of wine. He was on alert the whole time they dined, keeping an eye on the patrons that came and went. Some of the men had been gazing at Anne Marie in a way that unsettled d’Artagnan. Last thing he needed or wanted was to become involved in a bar brawl protecting her virtue. “Though I must say our Serge cooks just as well.”

“Is that the older man that runs the garrison kitchens?” Anne Marie was dunking a chunk of bread in her stew when she noticed d’Artagnan’s eyes twinkling.

“Serge was a former Musketeer. Unable to serve any longer due to an injury,” d’Artagnan was nearly done with his steak when he focused back on those men who gazed at Anne Marie with greedy eyes.

“All right,” Anne Marie huffed, she could tell that d’Artagnan wasn’t paying any attention to her. “Care to share where you’ve gone too?”

“It’s nothing,” d’Artagnan smiled in her direction while still keeping his vigil.

“Don’t give me that,” she tapped a well manicured fingernail on top of the table.

“If you must know,” d’Artagnan spoke low, “there are a few unsavory characters leering at you.” Finishing his meal, he noticed Anne Marie was done as well. “I suggest we leave with all due haste.” After having quickly paid for their meal, d’Artagnan walked around the other side of the table to Anne Marie.

Not daring to turn her head for fear of engaging the attention of the men d’Artagnan referred too, Anne Marie stood up to leave at the same time as her companion.

As soon as they both cleared the tavern doors, d’Artagnan felt rather than heard that they were being followed. “How fast can you run in those shoes?”

Bending low, Anne Marie removed them, dangling the pair in one hand as she grinned at d’Artagnan’s surprise. “As fast as you can.”

Hand in hand they raced down the street, dodging people left and right, until they reached the safety of their carriage. Laughing as they both jumped in, d’Artagnan and Anne Marie glanced out the windows to see at least three frustrated ruffians glaring at their carriage as it left those men behind.

“Next time, we go to a nice, safe inn,” d’Artagnan remarked.

“There’s no fun in *nice and safe*,” she giggled and was happy to coax more laughter from d’Artagnan. “What do you have to do for the remainder of the day?”

“Once I drop you off at the palace I have to help with our horses at the stables. I need to move them as renovations begin today.”

“Why you?” Anne Marie thought he was a soldier not a stable hand.

“I’m the only one Captain Treville trusts to keep the horses calm,” he smiled shyly, "It's a knack I have with most animals. I’ll be moving them across the courtyard over to one of our smaller stables until the construction is completed.”

“Dinner tonight?” Anne Marie raised a delicate eyebrow in question.

“More than likely,” d’Artagnan admitted dryly, “if I intend on getting to know Gaston better.”

“Do you want too?” she shot back.

“Part of me does,” d’Artagnan answered honestly.

“And the other part?” she grinned as if she already knew the answer.

“Wished Gaston would go back home and stay there.” Gazing at Anne Marie’s impish grin he teased, “Though perhaps he could leave you behind for entertainment value,” d’Artagnan chuckled at her amused snort.

++++

*Royal Palace*

As they arrived back, d’Artagnan made his goodbyes to Anne Marie and headed directly for the stables.

In the meantime, Marie de Medici had been a busy bee. She found out that d’Artagnan was on duty later in the afternoon at the stables. Having heard that Louis had ordered additions to be added on to it had given her an idea. So leaving the palace, Marie went to carry out her plan.

Taking matters into her own hands, as she roamed the streets of Paris, Marie wore a heavy cloak with a hood that covered her identity. She saw a group of men plying their trade on a corner. Marie knew the type very well. Knew they wouldn’t turn down the offer of money to do what she needed done. So Marie approached them and explained her requirements. They would be fools to turn their back on what Marie intended to pay them. After a little bargaining had gone on between them, Marie left with a self satisfied smile of pleasure on her face.

++++

*Garrison stables*

The additions to the stables were just underway by the time d’Artagnan began the process of moving the horses. Nodding at the workers who had been hired, he continued on with his own business. What d’Artagnan didn’t realize was that intermingled with the regular hires were the ones his grandmother had recently procured. These individuals went about sabotaging the hard work of the real crew.

As d’Artagnan came back in for the last two horses, both of which were Roger and Zad, he heard an ominous creaking sound. He figured that it was just part of the noise from all the hammering and sawing that was going on around him, so d’Artagnan didn’t really dwell on it.

But as d’Artagnan was leading Zad and Roger out of their respective stalls, the creaking sound, if anything, grew worse. If it hadn’t been for the two horses nudging d’Artagnan ungently in the back until he stumbled and fell down between the stalls, the roof that collapsed would have killed him instantly.

++++

*Royal Palace*

King Louis had been with the cardinal when a page rushed in, nearly out of breath from his frantic race to reach his sovereign.

“Can’t you see I’m talking important affairs of state with Cardinal Richelieu?” King Louis snapped at the child.

“But, sire, d’Artagnan has been hurt!” the boy announced nearly in anguish, for he like many of the pages working at the palace looked up to the young Gascon.

“How? What happened?” King Louis’s voice rose in pitch as he and the cardinal’s faces both paled.

“The stable roof came down on top of him,” the nervous page didn’t know if he was supposed to stay in the king’s presence or leave immediately now that he had done his duty. But he hadn’t been dismissed yet, though the boy didn’t feel the king remembered he was still in the same room with him.

“Where is d’Artagnan now?” Richelieu asked with a calm he did not feel. By God! This has all the earmarks of a de Medici plot. No coincidence here. Within a matter of days since her unexpected arrival, d’Artagnan now has an accident. Perhaps Richelieu should quit his own dawdling and arrange one for her.

“After his friends removed all the fallen planks they took d’Artagnan straight to the infirmary.” The page glanced back and forth between the two most powerful men in France and wondered what thoughts ran through their minds.

“Cardinal, we’ll have to table our conversation for later. I need to see my nephew.” King Louis dismissed the page then and shortly followed the boy out the door. Leaving the cardinal to deal with his own thoughts.

++++

*Infirmary*

“Athos, calm down,” Aramis wasn’t having much success watching his older friend so distressed and it upset him no end.

“If d’Artagnan hadn’t been caught between those two stalls most of the debris would have covered him from head to toe!” Athos yelled, shrugging off Porthos’s calming hand on his arm. Shoving Aramis off to the side, Athos knelt by the youngster’s bed. Brushing an errant hair from d’Artagnan’s white face, his own thoughts were disturbed at King Louis’s intrusion.

“D’Artagnan!” Louis cried as he strode inside the room, signaling for his guards to remain outside. Standing at the foot of his nephew’s bed, Louis’s lips tightened as he took in the state of d’Artagnan’s face. A variety of cuts and abrasions marred the once smooth skin. The youngster’s eyes remained closed and Louis worried what the lad's injuries entailed. 

“Athos, how bad is it?” King Louis asked.

“Nothing broken,” Athos sighed, running a hand through his own hair. “At least that’s what the doctor told us.” He placed his other hand on his little brother’s arm, mostly for Athos’s own comfort. “D’Artagnan manages to find new ways to get himself killed on a daily basis,” Athos quipped darkly then hung his head. “Aramis just gave him a draught for pain which is why the boy is asleep.”

“He was lucky,” Aramis put in, his eyes intent on the youth in the bed. “It could have been so very much worse than this.”

“I hired professionals to do those renovations,” King Louis announced angrily. “I find out now that half the roof collapsed on d’Artagnan!” To put it mildly, he was in a foul mood.

Porthos had gone out briefly to talk to one of his brothers-in-arms and just returned inside. He had some startling information for the king to hear. “It seems that at least three of those new workers was seen running right off before our whelp’s accident.”

“Are you telling us that this was a deliberate attempt on d’Artagnan’s life?” King Louis would have the heads of those culprits.

“I’ve got some fellow brothers inspecting the area to see what they can uncover, your Magesty,” Porthos explained.

“Good man,” King Louis nodded curtly. “Damn! In all my haste to be by my nephew’s side I forgot to have Gaston informed.”

“No need,” Gaston said as he walked in. “There was so much commotion going on at the palace it was hard not to hear what had happened.” He joined Athos’s vigil by his son’s bedside. “Hard to believe yours and d’Artagnan’s horses were the cause of saving the boy’s life.”

“It’s a miracle Roger and Zad got out of that stable with only a few minor scratches just before it all came down,” Athos added, just as a small whirlwind ran into the room nearly knocking Aramis off his feet.

“D’Artagnan!” Anne Marie gasped in shock. “Mon dieu! You’re out of my sight for barely an hour and this is how I find you!”

“Quiet, minx!” Gaston snapped at his daughter. “D’Artagnan’s resting.”

“Oh,” she floundered. “My fine rant was for nothing then,” Anne Marie slid her gaze over to Aramis as the man quietly chuckled.

“Louis,” Gaston glanced at his brother with worry. “Do you think...” he trailed off at the look in his brother’s eyes.

“I do not want to believe it,” Louis frowned, not finishing his sentence. He knew his mother inside and out. Louis wouldn’t put it past her to see d’Artagnan as a threat to the throne. Louis really hated to think that he may have to actually put her head on a spike after all.

“Captain Treville will be here shortly to check on the lad,” Porthos said. “He’s headin' the investigatin’ into what happened.”

“So no serious injuries to my son then?’ Gaston’s gut screamed at him that his mother was behind this attempt, even if Louis isn't willing to admit it right now.

Doctor Devereaux joined the group and set their minds at ease. “The boy will for the most part definitely be sore at least a week, if not longer. As Athos told his Majesty earlier, there are no broken bones to contend with,” Deveraux offered them a small smile. “D’Artagnan may suffer a few minor headaches from time to time,” he grimaced. “Which would be normal when one has a roof fall on top of them.”

“Athos,” King Louis waited until he had the other man’s attention again. “I want you, Aramis and Porthos to personally locate those individuals who did this. I do not feel they acted alone.”

“Nor do we, sire,” Athos nodded. He knew who hired them. But Athos and his friends needed to have definite proof to show the king. Running his hand through his brother’s fine hair, Athos’s concern grew even more for d’Artagnan’s safety.

++++

The remark Athos makes about d’Art finding new ways to kill himself on a daily basis, came from a website where I read that Ryan Gage mentioned that about Luca and the stunts for the show he performs himself. Perhaps Ryan's a bit envious, eh? LOL!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usually whenever I use French in my stories I don't bother putting translations at the end. I haven't exactly seen that done in any of the stories I've read so far for The Musketeers. But I had a friend that just gave me a website for bad language and odd sayings in French. So just for those who are curious as to what Porthos says to d'Artagnan, here it is:
> 
> *On t'a bercé trop près du mur?*  
> Meaning: As a child, was your cradle rocked too close to the wall?
> 
> I found it rather humorous and wanted to use that phrase.
> 
> ++++

*Garrison infirmary - same day as the accident, later that evening *

“Ohhhhh,” d’Artagnan moaned softly as he tried to sit up, “must have been some celebration that I’m foxed like this?” Grabbing his aching head, he flopped back down on the bed.

“I wish it were something as simple as a hangover,” Aramis murmured. “At least that could be cured.” 

“You, whelp, are to rest until at least the morn,” Porthos growled low as he sat on the edge of the bed. “And seeing that you’re finally awake I’ll have Aramis here get Serge to bring you some grub.”

His vision was blurry as d'Artagnan squinted up at Porthos's huge frame. “One of you is bad enough but now I’m seeing two,” he shook his head to clear it, but that only worsened his headache and made the room swim around him. “Oh that can’t be normal.”

“It is when a roof falls on top of you,” Athos announced wryly as he entered the room. He could tell just by looking at his petite fre’re how everything was hitting d’Artagnan at once. “I’ve been there, done that,” Athos shrugged casually. “Actually for everything you went through you’re not in bad shape considering.”

“Says you,” d’Artagnan retorted, covering his eyes with his arm for the candlelight was to bright. Then it registered what Athos had just told him, and he sat up so fast it made his stomach roll with nausea.

“Whoa, whoa,” Porthos calmed softly. “None of that now or you’ll be upchuckin’ in that pail by your bedside.”

“Roger… Zad?” d’Artagnan started hyperventilating as he struggled against Porthos’s grip. “I’ve got to get to them! Let me go!” D’Artagnan tried his best to get out of the bed but between Porthos and Athos he didn’t make much headway.

“Shoosh, both of em’ are right fine,” Porthos soothed, glancing over at Athos as the older man’s concerned gaze turned murderous.

“Time for that later, Athos,” Porthos grunted, knowing full well Athos, like the rest of them, wanted their own pound of flesh for what befell the boy when their backs were turned.

But d’Artagnan wasn’t a stubborn Gascon for nothing as he pushed Athos’s arms away and kicked out at Porthos as d'Artagnan swung his legs out of bed. As he tried to stand on his wobbly legs, d’Artagnan was assailed by a wave of dizziness so strong he went limp in Athos’s hold.

“God damn the boy!” Athos swore as Porthos helped him get the pup back in the bed.

“On t'a bercé trop près du mur?” Porthos frowned at d’Artagnan as he and Athos got the lad settled again. It didn’t help matters much when their youngest stuck his tongue out at Porthos for his remark to the boy.

After that struggle, Athos dropped into a chair by the bed and tried to compose himself. “Porthos, why don’t you go along with Aramis to get that food for d’Artagnan here.”

“On it!” He knew that this was Athos’s way of letting Porthos know he wanted some time alone with the whelp. 

Frowning down at the pup who was still squinting like an old man, Athos sighed unhappily. “King Louis, Gaston and Anne Marie were all here earlier clucking over you like mother hens.”

“And you weren’t?” d’Artagnan snorted while covering his eyes again. Knowing Athos as well as he did, d’Artagnan was certain his brother was at the head of the pack in the mother henning department.

“I’ll douse some of those candles to make it a bit darker in here for you.” It only took Athos a minute to accomplish that simple task and when he returned Athos sat in the same spot Porthos had vacated. D’Artagnan had come too close to losing his life today and the fright was still within Athos’s soul. “Merde!” he muttered and then leaned over to gather his younger brother to him, hugging the boy until d’Artagnan gave a small squeak of protest as the lad’s sore muscles made itself felt. “Apologies,” Athos’s blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “If I had lost you…”

Placing a fingertip on Athos’s lips, d’Artagnan leaned his forehead against the older man's. “I have nine lives remember?”

“I’ve lost count on which one you are now on,” Athos retorted softly.

“So the roof, huh?” d’Artagnan was sorry he asked as Athos’s eyes darkened in fury.

“Zad and Roger are the only reasons you live and breathe this day, child.”

“How?” d’Artagnan’s headache that had eased somewhat was coming back with a vengeance. So much so that the promise of food to come made him nauseous again.

“Just before the collapse, Jules was outside the stable and noticed Roger and Zad knock you down between the stalls right before the horses escaped to safety.

“I’ll get Serge to order several bags of apples and carrots just for them,” d’Artagnan murmured quietly, a pleased smile on his face. Their horses were the unsung heroes this day and deserved to be treated as such in his estimation.

“Headache worse?” Athos reached out to rub at d’Artagnan’s temples until a blissful look came over the boy. As the aroma of something delicious hit his senses, Athos realized his friends were back. Though he didn’t know if d’Artagnan would be up to doing the meal justice.

“Room service, mon fre’res!” Aramis chirped as he and Porthos came in loaded down with food enough for them all.

“If it tastes as good as it smells I’ll be in heaven,” Athos smiled as he watched the men arrange themselves around d’Artagnan’s bedside.

Staring at the plates of roasted chicken, homemade bread and a variety of cheeses, d’Artagnan swallowed hard, that sick feeling was growing worse. “Uh, guys…”

Aramis was the first to react, grabbing the bucket and helping the boy lean over the bed while he watched d’Artagnan bring up the pitiful amount he had in his stomach. When it seemed the lad’s retching was done with, Aramis re-arranged the pillows behind their young one and settled d’Artagnan back against them. The miserable face that met his own stared woefully at him, nearly breaking Aramis’s heart in two. “Perhaps this beef broth may go down better with you.” Handing d’Artagnan the bowl Aramis began his own meal.

All four men ate quietly, each harboring their own thoughts until d’Artagnan moaned again.

“I’m so sore,” d’Artagnan handed his empty bowl to Athos and then leaned back into his pillows, closing his eyes.

“Doctor Devereaux said you’ll be achy for about a week or more,” Porthos tugged on the lad’s one foot.

“Athos,” d’Artagnan waited until his brother looked at him. “There’s something more going on that you all are not telling me.”

“What makes you say that?” Athos quirked a brow. The pup was right but he wasn't going to tell him that.

Huffing in annoyance, d’Artagnan rolled his eyes. “You all have a *tell*.” He first looked at Aramis. “You rub at that slight scar you have on your face.” Next was Porthos's turn. “And you have a nervous twitch.” Finally d’Artagnan’s eyes rested on Athos. “Your eyes darken like a summer storm.”

“Picks up on things right quick, don’t he?” Porthos grinned, shaking his head. The kid was dead on.

“It was deliberate,” Athos admitted reluctantly. “Three men were seen running away shortly after you were nearly killed,” his body started trembling as he remembered the shape the boy was in afterwards. He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in sympathy. Turning his head slightly, Athos noted Aramis’s strained features. Glancing at Porthos, Athos knew he wasn’t the only one who would have felt their world end if d’Artagnan’s young life had been snuffed out like one of those candles burning in the infirmary.

“We fear you were their target, d’Artagnan,” Aramis grimly added as he watched the lad’s eyes begin to droop shut.

“You think my grandmother had a hand in this, don’t you?” a yawn burst forth from the boy then, and he knuckled his eyes like a child as he tried to keep the sleep at bay.

“Aye, whelp, we do,” Porthos declared quietly seeing that their youngest was on the cusp of sleep.

“My real grandparents were gone by the time I was born,” d’Artagnan explained as another yawn escaped him. “You can’t miss something you never had,” his eyes drooped shut once more but this time they stayed closed, “why start now.”

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Aramis mused, watching as d’Artagnan’s breathing evened out as sleep finally claimed him.

“You drug em’?” Porthos lifted an eyebrow, glaring at Aramis. “He didn’t eat much. Ya could have at least waited til the pup picked at the rest of his food,” Porthos growled low. “D’Artagnan’s too lean as it is. The lad needs fattened up some.”

“With d’Artagnan’s stomach as unsettled as it was, I was happy to just get that broth into him,” Aramis returned his friend’s glare, “which was indeed drugged with a herb I use.” His guilty look caused Athos to smirk. Aramis knew it was a bone of contention between all of them and d’Artagnan that the boy’s appetite needed to improve.

“I’ll make sure d’Artagnan eats a hearty breakfast come morning.” Athos realized tomorrow would be a very busy day for them all as they tried to gather evidence against Marie de Medici.

++++

*Royal Palace*

Those idiotic fools Marie hired hadn't accomplished what she had paid them to do. The boy still lived. Which wasn't her plan at all. Marie had already heard rumors spreading to the palace that the collapse of the roof wasn't an accident. She hadn't heard that anyone had been caught yet which, Marie admitted to herself, had been a great worry at first. Hopefully that riffraff was far away from Paris by now and out of the Musketeer's reach. Knowing her identity had been safely hidden away at the time, Marie told herself she was safe from accusations.

Though when Louis and Gaston had come back from the infirmary they had given her the oddest looks. Marie admitted to herself it was a bit unnerving to say the least. Both of them knew the type of deceit she was more than capable of. Catching Marie digging into her old bag of tricks would prove far harder than they could imagine. So Marie pretended a concern she didn't feel. "How is d'Artagnan doing?"

"He'll live, mother," Gaston said dryly, not really sparing her a glance. "Louis, my throat is parched. Have you any good wine around?"

"Oui," Louis laughed and signaled a servant to retrieve a carafe of their best Anjou wine for all of them. Stabbing his mother with a dubious look, Louis caught Gaston's eye and nodded. "My best Musketeers - Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan's brother Athos will be delving into this matter first thing tomorrow. I have every confidence in their ability to apprehend these canailles." Louis then took a sip of his wine as he noticed the cross look covering his mother's face. "The wine not to your taste, mother?"

Coughing as the wine went down the wrong way, Marie grimaced. "Tis a tad bitter, my son." Suddenly Marie's confidence went down a notch or two. She hadn't counted on Louis involving d'Artagnan's brother and his friends in the search. From what Marie had gathered, from servant gossip, those three men were furious at the near death experience d'Artagnan had escaped from. Perhaps Marie should cut her visit quite short after all. For now Marie would bide her time and see.


	10. Chapter 10

*Next day, early morning - infirmary*

Eating his breakfast under the watchful eye of his brother Athos, d’Artagnan put down his fork. “I’m full,” he announced and took a sip of his tea that Serge had so considerately supplied.

Leaning over the boy, Athos carefully inspected the plate and was pleased to see that the lad had eaten practically every morsel Serge had provided for d’Artagnan’s palate. Noticing the scowl the pup gave him, Athos smirked. “Aramis and Porthos will be relieved, as am I, over your healthy appetite this wonderful morn.”

“What’s so wonderful about it,” d’Artagnan retorted, wincing as his abused body reminded him of what happened yesterday. As he waited for Athos to explain, d’Artagnan’s hand drifted toward what was left of his half eaten biscuit.

“You are alive and relatively unharmed,” Athos smiled. “Plus Doctor Devereaux has informed me that you can be released into my care later today.” Seeing d’Artagnan perk up at his words, Athos held up his hand. “But you are going straight home and do nothing strenuous for the remainder of the week. If you feel the need to go outside, someone will be with you at all times.” The crestfallen expression on d’Artagnan’s features nearly made Athos relent, but he held firm to his dictates. 

“What are you going to be doing while I languish here waiting for you?”

“I, along with Porthos and Aramis, will be endeavoring to locate those three canailles who sabotaged the stable,” His blue eyes turned stormy when Athos thought what he’d like to do with those men when he caught up to them.

“Be careful,” d’Artagnan whispered, his eyes full of love for his older brother. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he offered with a lopsided grin.

Ruffling the boy’s hair, Athos dropped a light kiss on top of d’Artagnan’s head. “Be good.”

“Oui, pe’re,” d’Artagnan ducked his head quickly, waiting for reprisals.

“Brat,” Athos chuckled as he left the youngster behind. Though he couldn’t be positive, Athos thought he heard Doctor Devereaux’s lighthearted laughter in the background.

++++

*Outside of the LaRue Tavern*

“Porthos, what did you find out so far?” Athos thought it more prudent to send just one Musketeer into the tavern. If all three had gone in together, he felt most of the patrons would have run out the back door for fear they would be arrested. They were in the more seedier part of Paris and the low life that frequented these parts were usually the scum of society. Having been asking questions on the streets for the better part of two hours, their leads had brought them to this place. Athos hoped their efforts had not been in vain.

“The owner told me that three men came in his place last evening boasting that they had earned enough coins between em’ to last em’ at least a month or more,” Porthos’s brown eyes hardened at the thought that because of them d’Artagnan had been injured.

“Does the owner know when or if they will return?’ Aramis fingered his pistol that was in his weapon’s belt. He’d like nothing better than to ram it down one of those cut-purses’s throats.

“Yeah,” Porthos placed a hand on each of his friend’s shoulders and pushed them behind a pile of old barrels stacked up high on the side of the tavern. “Should be about now. The owner told me they were comin' back to pick up a case of his best wine.”

“Living high it would seem,” Athos voice was dry. “Even for me it is a bit early in the day for spirits.”

“Considering what they probably were paid,” Aramis’s lips firmed as he tried to reign in his emotions, “for yesterday’s activities. They’re stocking up early.”

“I could help them put those wine bottles to good use,” Athos’s brow quirked up. “Cracked right over their heads.”

“I like the way ya think, mon fre’re,” Porthos growled low as he nudged his two comrades. “Here come three rough lookin’ characters now.”

The inseparables watched as those three individuals went inside the tavern and minutes later came back out carrying a large wooden crate. Coming out of hiding, the three Musketeers confronted them. Aramis and Porthos flanked the men, while Athos held his ground in front.

“Gentlemen,” Athos spoke low but with authority. “We are the King’s Musketeers and have some questions that need answered about an attack on one of our own that took place yesterday at our garrison.” If he had any doubts about their connection to what happened to d’Artagnan they were put to rest by the look of fear that crossed their faces.

“We usually steer clear of your sort,” one man sneered at them.

“Yeah, we don’t exactly hang out around the garrison,” another spat on the ground.

“We certainly don’t know nothin’ about any stable falling apart,” the last man remarked followed by his harsh laughter.

Getting right up into the last man’s face, Athos growled, “I never mentioned anything about a stable collapsing.” He grabbed the man by the collar of his torn jacket and lifted him off his feet. “Speak now!”

Eyes darting to the other men with him, he didn’t know what to do but realized he had shot his mouth off at the wrong person. “We was approached by a woman see,” as the man looked into the blazing blue eyes in front of him, he gulped in fear for his life. “She offered us a goodly sum of coins to damage that there stable.”

“A woman?” Porthos took his turn and relieved Athos of his burden. Using his considerable strength, Porthos dangled the man high above his head. “What did she look like?” he shook the man for good measure hearing him struggle to catch his breath.

“Don’t rightly know,” the man answered. “Covered by a cloak with a hood she was.”

“Merde!” Aramis exchanged frustrated looks with his brothers. “To get this close and still not have the proof we need!”

“Wait a minute,” Athos had an idea as his eyes narrowed on these cut-purses. “Would you be able to identify the woman by her voice alone?”

All three men shrugged their shoulders and seemed bewildered by the request.

“Will we still be sent to the Bastille afterwards?” one of the men questioned.

“Oui,” Porthos grinned menacingly. “But it will go better on ya if ya can finger that woman that hired ya.”

“Athos,” Aramis glanced at his brother and whispered in his ear. “What happens if we do prove it was Marie de Medici? Would the king really chop off her head this time?”

“If d’Artagnan had died I believe King Louis would have carried it out,” Athos thanked God that it hadn't happened. “Perhaps this time he won’t be so lenient and will banish her from France forever.”

“It’s the most we could hope for,” Porthos added while he kept his eyes on the three canailles before him.

“God’s mill grinds slowly but relentlessly,” Aramis murmured, crossing himself.

“Eh,” one of the cut-purses guffawed, “ya a priest or a Musketeer?”

“Do you want to find out which one I am?” a wicked light came and went so quickly in Aramis’s eyes that Porthos and Athos nearly missed seeing it.

“Non, non,” the man shook his head. “Just was curious is all.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Porthos laughed with a wicked light of his own shining out from his dark eyes, making their captives nervous.

“Gather them up,” Athos ordered his brothers. "For now we'll keep them safely locked away in the Bastille."

++++

*Musketeer garrison - infirmary*

Resting his weary body, d’Artagnan was half asleep when he felt the presence of someone standing by his bedside. Thinking it was one of his brothers come to visit, he had a smile on his face when he opened his eyes. The smile quickly faded away to be replaced by one of surprise and worry as he stared into the dark eyes of his grandmother. “Madame,” d’Artagnan said as he cast his eyes about for Doctor Devereaux. When he spotted the man on the other side of the room, d’Artagnan relaxed more, for he first thought himself alone with her.

“I just came to see how you were,” Marie seated herself on a chair beside the boy’s bed. “Quite a lot of excitement happened to you yesterday it would seem.”

“I’d call it something more than *excitement*, Madame,” d’Artagnan murmured quietly.

“Oui,” Marie nodded her head. “I’ve been told by my sons that they believe this was an attempt on your life.”

“So I am to understand,” d’Artagnan sat up in the bed, resting his back against his pillows.

“You are awfully young to have many enemies?” Her eyes never once left the boy’s face as Marie studied him.

Shrugging, d’Artagnan wasn’t quite sure how to answer her. “Being a Musketeer one makes enemies everywhere.” And here he was talking to the very enemy his brothers believed to be behind his attack. How he wished he had a weapon to defend himself with in case his grandmother had come here to personally do him harm.

“It is a life I would not wish for any child of mine,” Marie practically oozed phoney charm. “Since you are my grandson perhaps I could persuade you to take up a life of nobility instead.”

The first words out of d’Artagnan’s mouth would have been - *you’ve got to be kidding me*, but he held them back. “There is no other life for me out there than this,” he stated emphatically. “It is what I wanted.”

“It is as I believed,” Marie smirked as she stared at the young man. “Stubborn like my sons, that’s one characteristic I hoped you wouldn’t share with them.” Standing up she glanced at the table beside d’Artagnan’s bed and noticed an empty cup. “Would you like something else to drink? Tea perhaps?” At her suggestion, Marie noticed d’Artagan’s eyes light up.

“I’d really like tea if you don’t mind,” d’Artagnan was taken aback that she had offered to get it for him.

“I’ll bring you a cup right away.” Marie smiled at the boy, acting like she honestly cared. 

What his grandmother didn’t realize was that d’Artagnan’s brothers were conspiring against her to show his uncle Louis and Gaston that she was the one behind the accident. He figured his grandmother was just trying to throw everyone off track by being nice to him now that he was injured. Still, he enjoyed a good cup of tea and didn’t care who brought it to him. 

Leaving d’Artagnan’s bedside, Marie went outside and immediately found someone to fetch the tea for her from the garrison kitchens. It didn’t take long and when it was placed in her hands Marie went back inside the infirmary and found an isolated spot where no one could see her. Slipping one of her rings from her finger, Marie pressed a hidden catch and watched it pop open. Releasing a powdery substance from the ring she poured it into the hot tea and watched as it dissolved quickly.

Stepping back into the area where d’Artagnan was, Marie sat back down and handed the boy the steaming cup. “Drink up now,” she smiled pleasantly. “It’s nice and hot.”

++++

*Royal Palace*

“Sire,” Athos had Captain Treville gather the king and Gaston together so that he could talk to everyone at once. “We have found the three men responsible for nearly killing d’Artagnan and have them in the Bastille as we speak.”

“Excellent work, Athos!” King Louis exclaimed. Looking at Gaston, he felt proud. “I told you my Musketeers were the very best.”

“Uh, your Majesty,” Athos interrupted. “They told us a woman hired them and though they didn’t see her face since she cloaked herself, they are sure to recognize the woman by her voice alone.”

“In other words,” Gaston broke in, “you want us to get mother here and let those men listen to her," he smiled grimly.

“In a nutshell,” Athos found himself liking Gaston even more now.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” cried the same young page that ran inside the throne room before.

“Why am I forever being interrupted by you?” King Louis announced snidely as he glared at the youngster.

“It’s d’Artagnan!” the page was all eyes as he gazed at his king again. He was truly nervous but this was part of his job. 

“What! Again?” Gaston shouted in anger. He couldn’t believe it. The doctor had said d’Artagnan was recovering.

“What has happened?” Athos asked the page anxiously.

“All I know is Doctor Devereaux sent for all of you concerning d’Artagnan. You must go quickly.”

And they did.

++++

*Infirmary*

Rushing inside, Athos and Gaston were first through the door. They were blocked from going any further by several Musketeers.

“Let us pass!” Athos ordered but still the men remained in front of them. Ready to shove them out of the way, Doctor Devereaux appeared before the situation got out of hand.

“My orders supercede yours, Athos,” his eyes were grave. “It is Aramis’s help that I need right now.”

Stepping forward, Aramis removed his hat, giving it to Porthos. “What can I do?”

“D’Artagnan is having convulsions,” Devereaux’s gaze swept everyone that had just entered the room, including a very scared looking King Louis. “They started a short time ago, and I do not know how to stop them.”

“Convulsions?” Athos wanted to push everyone out of his way to get to d’Artagnan’s side but did not want to provoke a fight.

Looking at the desperate faces in front of him, Devereaux wished he had a better diagnosis for them but it had to be said. “I believe the boy’s been poisoned.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General feedback from everyone has been for Marie de Medici to lose her head. My you are a bloodthirsty lot, eh? LOL!  
> I'll keep you guessing on that one (but not too long I hope).  
> Also during the 16th century, most deadly poisons rarely had a cure. But I researched and found something that would work. See end notes on this.
> 
> ++++

*Garrison infirmary*

“Poisoned!” Athos choked out, turning nearly as white in the face as d’Artagnan was right now.

“I believe that to be the case,” Doctor Devereaux confirmed as he waved Aramis over to the poor shaking boy’s bedside.

“How could this have happened?” King Louis cried out in distress, leaning his shoulder against Gaston’s for support for he suddenly felt weak.

“Everyone will have time enough to figure that one out,” Devereaux snapped. “For now the important thing is to save d’Artagnan’s life,” he winced, realizing he more or less was rather sharp with his king. “The convulsions began just a short time ago. D’Artagnan started to complain of having a headache at first,” he shrugged. “At first I merely thought it had to do with the accident he was involved in, but then he started acting confused and drowsy.” He picked up an empty mug and handed it to Aramis. “The boy drank some tea prior to his becoming ill,” Devereaux frowned. “I feel it was tainted.”

“What do you think was used?” Aramis was trying to remain calm but worry for d’Artagnan was making that extremely hard. “There are so many poisons to choose from.”

“Judging by his early symptoms I’d hazard a good guess that arsenic was the primary culprit. It’s readily available at most apothecaries in Paris.”

“Oui,” Aramis nodded in agreement. “It can be dissolved in any liquid and since it’s colorless, tasteless and doesn’t have any odor, d’Artagnan would have had no indication someone doctored his tea.”

“That’s why it’s widely used, being a convenient method of poisoning ones enemies,” Devereaux remarked in concern as he covered the sick boy with another blanket. “The only chance d’Artagnan has is for us to clean out his bowels since the lad recently ingested the poisoned tea.”

“I agree,” Aramis closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer for God to watch over their youngest. “If we wait too much longer the poisoning may become acute and the lad may start vomiting and his convulsions will become even stronger,” Aramis’s voice shook. “If that happens, d’Artagnan may not survive.” There were even more serious complications to worry about but he was afraid to voice them out loud.

“We have to flush out the young man's system immediately with as much water as possible to decontaminate it.” Doctor Devereaux motioned for the Musketeers that were guarding the infirmary to move aside. Looking at Athos and Porthos he put them to work. “Would you men please fill up as many buckets of well water that you can for us. While Aramis helps me prepare a mixture that will purge the poisons from d’Artagnan’s body.”

“What will you use?” King Louis had been mostly quiet up until now and was nearly in tears as was Gaston, while watching d’Artagnan suffer so.

“I carry many herbs here that should work,” Devereaux replied. “I normally use a formula consisting of Rhubarb as it’s best to promote bowel movement, mixed with aconite root and dried ginger.”

“What can we do?” Gaston felt so helpless. When Anne Marie and Anne joined them he hugged his daughter to his side, burying his head in her neck, while Anne clung to Louis in her grief.

“For now I ask you all for your patience,” Devereaux pointed Aramis toward a cabinet where he kept his herbal supplies. “It would be best if everyone went back to the palace until I send word.”

Having come in at the last minute, all Anne Marie knew was that d’Artagnan was sick. Whispering to her father she asked what had happened. 

“He’s been poisoned,” Gaston told her, struggling against tears. He heard Anne gasp and it appeared she would faint but Louis kept a firm grip on her. 

Bewildered though, Anne Marie gazed at her uncle, a question in her eyes. “Do you know who did it?” Forcing herself not to cry, for d’Artagnan wouldn’t want her to do so, instead Anne Marie wanted to avenge her brother with every fiber of her being.

“After d’Artagnan’s out of the woods we’ll delve into that,” Louis murmured quietly. Then he stepped aside as Athos and Porthos entered carrying two buckets each of water.

“I feel totally useless,’ Gaston admitted as he watched the two Musketeers set the buckets down beside d’Artagnan’s bed.

“We’re not doing much here,” Louis pointed out tiredly. “The doctor did make a good suggestion for us to leave,” he gazed around the room. “It is cramped quarters.” Squeezing his wife’s hand tightly, Louis tugged her toward the door.

Not wanting to leave his son’s side, Gaston was going to stubbornly refuse until he looked into his daughter’s tearful eyes. “All right,” he nodded. “We’ll take Devereaux's advice and head back to the palace and pray that d’Artagnan will make a complete recovery.”

Glaring at the mug that sat on the table by the lad’s bedside, Gaston knew, with a sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, that his mother had a hand in this. He would wait upon the outcome of this catastrophe to question Doctor Devereaux later, as would Louis. They would find out who the last person was that handled the mug of tea d’Artagnan drank from.

As Louis and his wife, along with Gaston and Anne Marie went outside, they ran into Cardinal Richelieu. His Eminence seemed rattled, which was not a good look for him. Richelieu was even lacking the usual attire of his long, black cape.

“I’ve just received word about d’Artagnan,” Richelieu gazed anxiously at their worried expressions. “Is the boy still alive?”

“Oui,” King Louis nodded. “Doctor Devereaux and Aramis are treating my nephew as we speak.”

“What exactly has occurred?” Richelieu was feeling quite vexed. The feeling had started, and had kept escalating, ever since Marie’s arrival. Then d’Artagnan’s accident in the stable that turned out not to be an accident had happened. He had his own Red Guards looking into the matter but they had come up empty. Treville had told him his best men were on it, so Richelieu had to bow to the Musketeers expertise in apprehending the criminals.

“The good doctor’s working under the assumption d’Artagnan was poisoned with arsenic,” Gaston informed him.

“Mon dieu!” This time Richelieu would convince the king to remove Marie’s head. For, without a doubt, he knew this was her devilish handiwork. Knowing her as well as he did, poison would be Marie's weapon of choice.

“Devereaux wanted us to wait for word back at the palace,” King Louis looked at his cardinal with sad eyes. “Come, you may offer prayers up to God for the boy.”

“Oui,” Richelieu said as if in a daze. Events seemed to be spiraling out of his control and he wasn’t used to that. “I will pray for d'Artagnan's wellbeing."

++++

*Royal Palace - Marie de Medici’s room*

As she paced back and forth, Marie allowed herself a small smile of accomplishment. The boy should be sicker than a dog about now. Marie only hoped his passing would be quick. She didn’t care if d’Artagnan was in agony as he did die, Marie just wanted d’Artagnan out of the picture and out of her way period. A knock upon her door momentarily surprised her. “Entre!” she called out.

A paige poked his head through the door cautiously, for fear of angering her. “Madame, the others have returned from the infirmary,” he announced timidly. “I thought you would like to know.”

“My thanks,” Marie dipped her head, waiting for the boy to leave. They were back sooner than she had expected. Perhaps this spelled good news for her in that d’Artagnan had already passed away. Straightening her gown, Marie went in search of her family.

++++

*Gaston’s state room*

“How long are we to wait do you suppose?” Anne Marie mused out loud as she watched her father, Uncle Louis and Anne pace the floor.

“I never knew anyone that was poisoned to survive,” Gaston stupidly supplied, seeing Louis glare at him in anger he realized how that probably sounded to his daughter. “Well I meant I didn’t know anyone that had been done in by arsenic. Since the doctor and Aramis both feel they caught it early there’s hope for d’Artagnan yet.”

“I suppose so,” Anne Marie sat down on a loveseat near the window and gazed out of it forlornly. She hadn’t known how much d’Artagnan had come to mean to her in so short a time. But he had found a place in her heart that Anne Marie knew would be bereft if she lost d’Artagnan now.

“How did d’Artagnan ingest the poison?” Looking for answers, Anne stared at her husband.

“It would seem d’Artagnan’s tea had been doctored,” Louis offered, feeling like he had aged ten years in the last twenty minutes or so.

Gazing around the room, he didn't see His Eminence looming about. “Where did Cardinal Richelieu disappear too?” Gaston thought the cardinal had followed them in here.

“He went straight to the small chapel located in the lower chambers to pray for d’Artagnan’s life,” Louis answered grimly. “I think I shall join him.”

“As shall we all,” Gaston murmured quietly with a nod at Anne Marie’s solemn face.

++++

*Infirmary*

“Well?” Porthos growled. “I hate all this waitin’ around,” he complained to Athos. The larger Musketeer could see how this was wearing his friend down. They had fetched buckets of water until their arms ached. D’Artagnan had finally become coherent enough to obey the doctor’s orders, but the poor lad had to be even sicker just from the constant amount of fluid Aramis and Devereaux poured down d’Artagnan’s throat. He hoped that Rhubarb mixture they had both worked on would do the trick and remove the arsenic poison from the whelp.

It had been going on for well over two hours and Athos wanted to wring Marie de Medici's neck with his bare hands. He didn't need additional proof to know she had been behind this attack on his petite fre’re. Leaning against the wall, he struggled with his composure which he knew was sadly lacking at the moment. Athos watched as d’Artagnan pleaded with both Aramis and Devereaux to give him respite but neither man could afford to be that generous with the boy. They had to keep at it or they would lose d’Artagnan forever.

One thing Porthos hadn’t counted on was once d’Artagnan started having the runs, he and Athos were made to empty the chamber pot every time it was full. Athos actually lined up several in a row so they wouldn’t have to rely on just one. In all this chaos, Porthos nearly forgot about the three men they had in the Bastille. No one better break them out of there or they’d answer to him. One way or the other they would prove d’Artagnan’s grandmother was behind both attempts on their youngest.

“You wouldn’t think the lad had anymore inside him to move,” Athos quirked a brow as he looked at Porthos. "I think I am developing a headache just from the smell alone."

“I just hope once the doctor’s satisfied d’Artagnan will be able to get some much needed rest,” Porthos remarked gruffly as he noticed how scrawny looking the boy seemed. “Guess I’ll have to fatten the whelp up all over again after this as well.”

“I do not believe you fattened him up before,” Athos allowed himself a small smile. Still, he felt guilty even for that. But Porthos was right, d’Artagnan ever on the lean side, could ill afford to lose anymore weight. But between the boy having a roof fall on him and now this, he doubted d’Artagnan’s appetite would improve.

“While we’re waitin’,” Porthos whispered to Athos, “I’m gonna sneak off to see Serge to find out who delivered that tea.”

“All right,” Athos’s eyes narrowed in anger the more he thought on it. “You’ll know where to find me.”

*Garrison kitchen*

“How’s the boy?” Serge had heard through the Musketeer grapevine what had happened to d’Artagnan.

“Holdin’ his own,” Porthos kindly answered as he placed a friendly hand on the older man’s arm. “Serge, who brought the tea up to the infirmary for our pup?”

“Why Pierre did,” Serge blinked up at him in confusion. “Oh don’t tell me you think someone here did it?”

“Let me talk to Pierre for a minute, will ya?” Porthos watched as Serge scurried away to his kitchen and came back out with a petite garcon about eight years of age. “Pierre, is it?” At the boy’s tentative nod, Porthos gently smiled at him. “Pierre, who did you give the tea too when you delivered it to the infirmary earlier?”

Looking from Serge to the giant of a Musketeer, Pierre tried not to be frightened. “I handed it to d’Artagnan’s grandmother, sir.”

Hanging his head down, Porthos's eyes glinted. Placing a large hand on the child’s head, he mussed up the boy’s hair. “My thanks, Pierre.” With a nod to Serge, he left the kitchen.

*Infirmary*

“Well?” Athos questioned as soon as Porthos entered the room. Deep down, Athos already knew the answer but he needed to hear it confirmed.

“One guess,” Porthos spat.

Eyes darkening in anger, Athos looked toward where Aramis was sitting on the edge of the bed supporting d’Artagnan’s head up. But there was a pleased look about Aramis’s lips that made Athos’s heart feel lighter. “Marie de Medici’s done her hellish best to kill d’Artagnan in the short amount of time she has been with us,” his lips tightened. “As soon as Doctor Devereaux deems our young one on the road to recovery, you, Aramis and I will visit the Bastille and our three guests we have waiting there for us.”

“Then if we can get them to confirm it was her they dealt with...” Porthos exchanged a conspiratorial look with his brother.

“And let it be known it was she that personally handed d’Artagnan the tea...” Athos grinned.

Slapping Athos on the back, Porthos grinned. “Maybe we’ll hear King Louis announcing - *off with her head* sooner than we think.”

++++

End Note: When one is poisoned with arsenic, if the individual is treated soon after the arsenic has been ingested, purging ones bowels was an effective remedy. So that’s what I came up to fit it in with my storyline since that was the main poison I wanted to use.


	12. Chapter 12

*Royal Palace, Gaston’s state room*

Upon the entrance of their mother, both Gaston and Louis frowned in slight displeasure at her unannounced appearance.

“I had heard you were all back from visiting the infirmary,” Marie said demurely, hiding her glee. “How fares the boy?”

“Fighting for his life, mother,” Gaston shot back angrily, restraining himself from voicing accusations against her without concrete proof.

“That’s a pity,” Marie nodded in mock sympathy. “He seemed to be doing much better when I last was with him.” She saw no sense in lying about it as they would have found out sooner or later from Doctor Devereaux that Marie had been with the boy.

“You were there, grandmamma?” Anne Marie questioned, suspicion growing in her mind.

“Oui,” Marie shrugged, taking in the distressed faces of her family. “I thought it would look odd if I didn’t check on d’Artagnan considering I am supposed to be his grandmother.”

Cardinal Richelieu chose that moment to enter the room and had clearly heard what Marie had admitted too. “I’ve done my best for d’Artagnan. It is to be hoped that God will intervene on our behalf.”

“Our thanks, Cardinal,” King Louis acknowledged with a solemn look.

“Well, this is a bit too gloomy for me,” Marie admitted as she observed such serious faces around her. “If there is any change in d’Artagnan please inform me as I will be in my room.”

After Marie left, Anne Marie went over to her uncle and father. “Grandmamma wears a ruby ring on her left hand that springs open when you touch the hidden catch,” Anne Marie bit her lip until it nearly bled as realization hit her on what she was about to divulge. “Grandmamma usually keeps a special powder in it for her migraines.”

Everyone in the room stopped breathing for a second or two.

“It could also be used to contain a poison like arsenic,” Richelieu announced to everyone with great relish in his voice. Finally he got one up on Marie he thought privately. Richelieu now had the tiger truly by the tail.

“Oui,” Anne Marie nodded in agreement. “Which could only mean that grandmamma…”

Holding up his hand, Louis stopped his niece from continuing. “It would be only our word against hers at this point if no one else had seen mother pour the arsenic into d’Artagnan’s tea.”

“I beg to differ, Your Majesty,” Athos announced as he strode into the room, along with Porthos and the three men they had previously arrested. He caught the last part of Anne Marie’s conversation and wasn’t a bit surprised to hear Marie de Medici was the one who had handled the poisoned tea.

“Why are you here and not at the infirmary?” Gaston prayed that it was a good sign if these Musketeers felt it was safe enough to leave his son’s sick bed.

“Aramis is with him, as is the doctor,” Porthos supplied as he grappled with one man trying to tug his arm free from Porthos’ iron hold.

“Devereaux believes d’Artagnan has finally expelled the poison that burned through his system, and the lad is currently resting courtesy of a draught prepared by Aramis,” Athos smiled as he remembered how d’Artagnan had complained about the herbal mixtures bitter taste, a sure sign that the boy was on the road to a full recovery.

“I am greatly relieved to hear this most welcome news,” King Louis smiled for the first time in a long while. “We will give d’Artagnan a chance to rest before we all converge on him tomorrow.” 

“Are these ruffians here for a reason, Athos?” Gaston could smell their stench from where he stood across the room. It was foul indeed. Just as foul as those men appeared.

“Oui,” Athos nodded but directed his gaze at the king. “These were the men hired to damage the stable that collapsed on top of d’Artagnan.”

“Why have you taken them from the Bastille to bring them here?” King Louis demanded, stamping his foot in a childish display of temper.

“I will admit that d’Artagnan’s concerns came first,” Athos said. “We all thought the lad would perish and needed to see him through this trauma,” he glanced at the criminals shifting nervously on their feet. “Once Doctor Devereaux made it clear to us that d’Artagnan would be well, Captain Treville was going to inform you that Your Majesty needed to speak with them."

“So we thought it better to just present these cut-purses to you now,” Porthos’ dark eyes gleamed with malice toward the cowardly men huddled together who found themselves facing the king of France.

Somewhat mollified, King Louis grunted. “Very well.” He looked sternly at the men his Musketeers had brought in. “Do you three freely admit to tampering with the garrison’s stable?”

Glancing first at the fierce stature of Athos, the three criminals slowly nodded their heads back at the king. 

“Well then I can see I will have to have the gallows set up.” King Louis was pleased to see that his words frightened them for what the future held in store.

“Sire,” Athos cleared his throat to get the king’s attention back on him, “when questioned they informed us that whoever hired them was hidden by a cloak and therefore they could not see the person’s face.” Athos saw a look of frustration cross King Louis’ face. “When pressed they did tell us that it was the voice of a woman they had heard speak to them.” He paused as Athos noted Gaston nod at him. At least one member of this family seemed to be on the same page as he. “Therefore I suggest a ruse.”

“Oh very well then,” King Louis sighed in exasperation. “I’ll postpone the hanging until you come up with a plan to catch the person behind all this trouble,” King Louis waved a hand airily, trying to talk himself into believing his mother was not in anyway involved.

“I wondered perhaps if we could put it to the test right now,” Athos suggested.

Knowing where this was leading, King Louis exchanged a strange look with the cardinal. “Why do I get the feeling we have been down this road before?” He, of course, referred to the time when Richelieu discovered his mother’s conspiracy to overthrow him and rule France herself.

“I will endeavor to get her inside the throne room, Your Majesty,” Cardinal Richelieu’s dark eyes narrowed on the guilty men. He was careful not to mentioned Marie’s name out loud as he did not want these low-lifes to realize who it was they would be condemning. “Athos, Porthos, and these disgusting creatures can hide in your secret room there where they’ll be able to listen in to our conversation.”

“All right,” King Louis agreed. “Get it over and done with,” he ordered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel a headache coming on.”

“A headache that goes by the name of Marie de Medici,” Porthos whispered in Athos’ ear. His friend’s amused smirk reflected Porthos’ own.

As the cardinal swept out of the room, the two Musketeers followed behind marching the three culprits to the throne room to secret them away.

++++

*Throne room*

“Bit cramped for space in here don’t ya think?” one of the trio of miscreants spoke up to the Musketeers, as they were all jammed together like sardines in this confined area. The secret room wasn’t meant to house all of them it seemed to him. He thought it amusing that it was hidden behind a huge portrait of King Henry IV.

Glaring down at the little man, Porthos growled, “Why don’t ya shut up your trap?”

Immediately the *little man* obeyed the giant, appearing to shrink into himself so as not to be seen by the huge Musketeer.

“How we gonna hear anything in here?” the skinniest of the three hissed his complaint.

“There are sliding panels where one can see and hear from behind the picture itself,” Athos impatiently explained as he was beginning to regret this idea already. The overwhelming odor coming from these men was enough to turn his stomach. Athos only hoped this was all worth the effort.

“Right strange place to have a secret room,” the third man finally voiced, earning a cuff to the back of his head from Porthos.

“Eh now,” the man rubbed his balding head. “No cause to be doin’ that,” he whined.

Leaning into the man’s space, Porthos leered at him. “Ya talk too much.”

“First time I said anything,” the man grumbled.

“Quiet” Athos ordered. “They’re entering the chamber now.”

++++ 

“Armand, why did you drag me from my comfortable room if there’s no more news on d’Artagnan?” Marie was not pleased, she had been about to turn in for the evening.

Richelieu was not about to inform her that d’Artagnan had passed this latest crisis by the grace of God. He did his best to maneuver Marie near the portrait so the men could clearly hear her voice. “I need to know how long you intend on gracing us with your presence?”

Feeling something quite odd going on, Marie studied the man in front of her carefully. “You had to bring me in here to ask me that at this hour?”

“It’s been on my mind a great deal of late,” Richelieu remarked. “Considering what happened on your last visit with us do you wonder why I am concerned?”

Chuckling, Marie clasped her hands in front of her. “No coups this visit, Armand.”

“It is most gratifying to hear that,” Richelieu prayed that this brief discussion was enough to incriminate Marie for he could not think up another excuse if his life depended on it. “Then I bid you a good night, Madame.” He heard Marie muttering to herself about his paranoia due to his advanced age, as she left the room.

Waiting a minute or two, Richelieu triggered the spring mechanism that worked the hidden door. As the five men revealed themselves, he found himself inpatient for the outcome. “Well?”

Athos turned to stare at the three men and arched a brow in contemplation. A small smile grew on his face as the men bobbed their heads in unison.

“Oui,” they replied together.

“That there’s the voice of the one that hired us to do the job all right,” the balding one crowed.

“Paid us handsomely too,” another added sorrowfully, knowing that he would never get to spend anymore of his share of the money he had pocketed.

Both Porthos and Athos looked toward the cardinal and couldn’t help but notice the satisfied expression on his face.

“Seems like the canary has just been swallowed whole by a very large cat,” Porthos snickered.

“Now we’ll have to wait and see what King Louis will decide upon,” Athos nodded. He wanted to see a light at the end of this very long tunnel for all of them. Gathering the men together, Athos and Porthos prodded them out the door and back to Gaston’s state room.

++++

*Gaston’s state room*

Richelieu appeared pleased Gaston thought as he watched the cardinal enter his room. Perhaps his mother tripped herself up for the final time. He then waited as Athos followed next holding the door open for Porthos who made sure those three criminals didn’t get loose as the bigger Musketeer literally shoved the men inside making them stumble against each other.

Walking over to the cardinal, King Louis frowned. “Did you discover anything of great import?”

Looking at the Musketeers, Richelieu indicated that he would speak. “The men have clearly identified that it was indeed your mother who paid them to destroy the stable so that it would kill d’Artagnan.”

“And by her own admission she was with d’Artagnan prior to the lad drinking the tainted tea,” Athos reminded His Majesty. "We had the chance to talk earlier to Pierre, a small boy that helps Serge in the garrison kitchens. He told us he handed the tea personally to d'Artagnan's grandmother when he brought it over."

"From what Devereaux had told us, d'Artagnan was feeling much better prior to her handing him the drink," Porthos added.

“And as I told you, Uncle Louis,” Anne Marie said, “she wore that very same ring I mentioned.”

Slumping down into a chair, King Louis bent his head and covered his face with both hands. Feeling an arm come around his shoulder he glanced up into his brother's angry face. “There is nothing for it then... is there?”

“She cannot continue on in such a manner, Louis,” Gaston gently shook his brother’s shoulders, “you know that. I worry for d’Artagnan’s life now more than ever.”

Standing back up, King Louis looked at his Musketeers first. “Take these men back to the Bastille,” he ordered. “I will determine their fate tomorrow.” Turning around he eyed the cardinal’s steady presence. “You and I will have to prepare a speech that I will deliver to my subjects explaining what I am about to do in regards to mother.”

“Excellent, Your Majesty,” Richelieu bowed his head. “Would tomorrow morning be too soon?”

“Non,” King Louis shook his head. “I want to be done with this mad business as much as I want d’Artagnan to be free of worry that his life would be in constant danger from his own grandmother.”

“Very well, sire,” Richelieu agreed. “I will see you in the morn then.”

Waiting for the cardinal to leave first, Athos and the others slowly paraded out of Gaston’s room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See my note at the end of this chapter.
> 
> ++++

*Next day, late morning - Royal Palace, King Louis’ state rooms*

“Uncle,” Anne Marie approached him as Louis was preparing his speech for his subjects. He and the cardinal had been bouncing ideas off one another most of the morning until her uncle angrily shouted at Richelieu to leave and he’d deal with it alone. Apparently he didn’t care for whatever the cardinal was offering him to write.

“Come in, come in, my child,” Louis smiled as he waved her inside the room. Relaxing in his chair, Louis studied her anxious face. “What brought you here?”

“I managed to retrieve grandmama’s ring from her room while she was still asleep and went over to give it to Doctor Devereaux. He was going to contact an apothecary of his acquaintance to come to the garrison infirmary.”

“For what reason?” Louis’ brain was too weary to even guess why Anne Marie would do such a thing.

“It’s the last piece of proof needed before you finalize the official decree to your public and before informing grandmama that she’d been caught.”

“What is this apothecary to discover?’ Louis rubbed at his forehead as his mind seemed to have gone numb.

“There were still traces of a powdery residue left inside of her ring,” Anne Marie hesitated but knew this was the last nail in her grandmother’s coffin. “The apothecary has already tested the powder, and the results were positive for arsenic.”

Sighing deeply, Louis simply stared blankly down at the speech he had been attempting to write. “Go visit d’Artagnan for awhile,” he ordered stiffly, yet gently. “The boy should see a friendly face as Athos is in charge of guarding those three miserable curs in the Bastille.”

“Oui, Uncle,” Anne Marie curtsied quickly and left him alone with his thoughts.

++++

*Garrison infirmary*

“Can I go home yet?” d’Artagnan whined at the doctor.

“It’s a relatively good sign when any of my patients complain they’re feeling well enough to leave my humble establishment,” Doctor Devereaux’s eyes twinkled as he noticed the lad’s brown eyes shining with their normal exuberance for life.

“Could I go home... please?” d’Artagnan thought it worth a second effort as he stood up to stretch his unused muscles.

Chuckling, Devereaux walked away from the youngster as he spied Anne Marie entering the room. He wanted to give the young people privacy as they conversed.

“D’Artagnan,” Anne Marie grinned at the young man. “It is so good to see you back on your feet.”

Taking her hands in his own, d’Artagnan smiled back. “I’m trying to break out of here, but so far my requests have fallen on deaf ears,” he shot an aggravated look at the doctor whom d’Artagnan could clearly hear still laughing.

Giggling, Anne Marie sat down on the bed and patted the space beside her for d’Artagnan to join her. Once her half brother sat back down, she gently took his hand and squeezed it lightly. “I have some unpleasant news to tell you,” Anne Marie grimaced. “Well, several things actually.”

“Go on”, he urged. She appeared nervous to d’Artagnan’s eyes, and he was concerned as to what her news would pertain too.

“You know how we’ve suspected grandmama had been behind the stable roof collapsing on top of you?” Anne Marie murmured in a hushed tone.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan shrugged, “My brothers and I already realized she probably hired several people to damage it,” he placed an arm around her shoulder and hugged her close to his side.

“Did you know that those men had been caught?” Anne Marie could see d’Artagnan’s eyes widen in surprise. She figured Athos and his comrades hadn't had the time yet to inform d'Artagnan.

“Non,” he shook his head. “But I am glad that those canailles are off the streets anyway,” d’Artagnan smiled ruefully. “I guess I’m not too shocked hearing that my grandmother may have tried to do away with me,” he huffed in laughter.

“Alas, I have more grave news to impart,” Anne Marie studied d’Artagnan and figured he was well enough to handle it.

“Other than suspecting my grandmother of trying to murder me?” d’Artagnan chided softly.

“It still has to do with the very same thing,” Anne Marie bit her lip, “but there is more.”

With a wave of his hand, d’Artagnan tilted his head as he waited for her to continue.

“We have positive proof that grandmama hired those cut-purses to do the job and her second attempt to take your life as well,” her eyes began to water.

“I have been so out of it up until today that no one has actually explained to me how I came to drink a cup of poisoned tea,” d’Artagnan’s forehead wrinkled as his mind tried to remember what Athos had told him.

“Grandmama was behind that terrible deed,” Anne Marie hung her head down. “I was the one who pointed everyone in her direction.”

Lifting her chin up with a finger, d’Artagnan looked into her tear filled eyes. “How did she accomplish it?”

“The tea you drank,” Anne Marie’s tears began to fall. “Grandmama’s ring contained arsenic powder in it.”

“Ah, I see now,” d’Artagnan nodded his head as he understood how he had made it so easy for his grandmother to murder him. “All because I wanted something hot to drink,” he laughed.

“You find this amusing?” Anne Marie scowled.

“Expect the unexpected from me,” d’Artagnan’s eyes sparkled with their old Gascon charm. “But I am sorry you had to become involved in all this intrigue,” his eyes were full of sorrow more on Anne Marie’s behalf than his own, after all Marie de Medici was her grandmother as much as his. Though he really rather not claim any relationship to Gaston’s mother if he could help it.

“Last night the men she hired were able to identify grandmama by the sound of her voice and I’m the one who handed her ring over to have the powder in it analyzed,” Marie explained.

“I can see it written now in history books to come,” d’Artagnan announced playfully. “Marie de Medici attempted to murder her illegitimate grandson by way of collapsing roof and poisoned tea.”

Punching d’Artagnan in the arm, Anne Marie chuckled. “This is in no way funny you know. But I am so glad you are taking it on the chin in this way,” she rolled her eyes at him.

“There’s more isn’t there?” d’Artagnan could read the worry still in her eyes.

“Uncle Louis had made a decision, and it is the only way to make sure grandmama could never hurt you again,” Anne Marie said seriously.

“Mon dieu!” D’Artagnan ran a hand through his hair making it look wildly unkept. “He’s going to have her head for this.”

“It’s the only way now,” Anne Marie leaned against d’Artagnan’s strong shoulder.

“Does my grandmother know yet?”

“I’m sure Uncle Louis will send for her soon. He was working on a speech to his subjects when I interrupted him earlier.”

Wondering if the speech in question was in preparation to explain why Uncle Louis was going to relieve his own mother of her head this time and not for Marie de Medici’s last indiscretion against his uncle when the woman tried to overthrow him.

++++

*Royal Palace*

“Why have you summoned me, Louis?’ the imperial note in Marie’s voice was most unmistakable as it echoed across the room.

Snapping his fingers loudly, instantly two Red Guards along with two Musketeers came inside the room to stand beside him. “Mother, you are to be escorted to the Bastille to await execution.”

Thinking she had misheard her son, Marie arched an eyebrow and huffed in annoyance. “On what charge this time?” she snorted. “I haven’t tried to remove you from your throne lately.”

“Non, I agree you haven’t had the chance to try the same thing twice,” Louis motioned for his guards to stand by her side. “You are to lose your head for the crime of trying to murder my nephew d’Artagnan... twice.”

“On what flimsy proof?” Marie’s eyes narrowed as she watched Gaston and Richelieu enter the room. “My, oh my,” she sneered. “Aren’t we all just one big happy family now.”

Ignoring her remark, the king nodded his head at Cardinal Richelieu for the other man to carry on.

“The proof came from the very men that you procured to tamper with the garrison’s stable, for one thing,” Richelieu smirked.

“And the evidence from your ring that contained arsenic, for the other,’ Gaston supplied. “Let's face facts, mother, as long as you are alive d’Artagnan’s life is forfeit.”

“So," Marie paused and waved her hand airily, "it’s off with my head then?” she actually had the nerve to laugh in their faces. “How original,” she announced quite drolly.

“There is nothing remotely amusing about any of this, mother!” Louis snapped.

“It is from my end,” Marie countered swiftly as she eyed the guards that surrounded her with something akin to distaste. “When is the deed to be done?”

“I expected you to put up more of an argument,” Louis frowned as Gaston made to stand beside him in a show of brotherly support.

“I only admit to being curious as to how you came by my ring.” Silence greeted her ears to that question, as Marie guessed no one was about to admit to removing it from her room. Glancing oddly at Richelieu, she pursed her lips. “Ah, Armand, now I at least understand our odd conversation of last night,” she commented snidely. “I was set up.”

“Indeed you were, Marie,” Richelieu agreed, as he contained his hidden delight at the prospect of her demise. But he looked at Marie in such a way as to convey to her that this time he had the upper hand.

“My two sons,” Marie sadly looked at each of them in turn, “you have both been the bitterest disappointments of my life.” Turning her back on them, Marie marched out of the room with her armed escort.

“Cardinal, would you please make sure mother actually reaches her destination,” King Louis asked, not trusting the woman an inch.

Bowing, Richelieu replied. “As you wish, sire.”

++++

*Garrison courtyard*

“D’Artagnan!” three glad voices cried out as one, ringing throughout the courtyard.

“By God it’s good to see you with some color back in your cheeks!” Aramis exclaimed as he hugged the boy tight.

“I owe you and the good doctor my life and my thanks for the care you gave to me,” d’Artagnan ducked his head shyly.

“Eh,” Porthos grunted, “don’t forget the ones that lugged all those buckets of water up and down the steps for ya ta drink, boyo.” Porthos picked the whelp up and engulfed him in a great bear hug, while Athos hung back, his blue eyes filled with amusement as d’Artagnan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“Porthos, put my brother down before you finish what Marie de Medici started,” Athos commented sardonically.

Placing the lad back on his feet, Porthos blushed. “Er, sorry, pup.”

“We both know you’re not,” d’Artagnan grinned and glanced over at Athos. “Don’t I get a brotherly welcome from you?”

“We’ll have our own celebration later, mon fre’er,” Athos placed a casual arm across d’Artagnan’s shoulders and ran his hand lightly through the child’s hair, sending a quick wink to Anne Marie who stood silently beside the boy.

As everyone began chattering to each other, Rene ran over to their side. He was out of breath by the time he reached them and took a moment to collect himself. “There’s been news from the Bastille where they took Marie de Medici to be held!”

“So the king pronounced his sentence on her already,” Athos murmured quietly. He had not known that King Louis had already placed Marie de Medici in jail.

“That was right quick,” Porthos said while he observed Aramis simply make the sign of the cross and kiss his crucifix.

“Rene, what has happened?” D’Artagnan realized that everyone seemed taken aback by the news that Marie de Medici was already in the Bastille, and he seemed to be the only one curious as to wonder what had brought Rene running over to them.

“The king was to have executed Marie de Medici on the morrow, but the woman was found dead in her cell a short time ago. It appears she had taken her own life.”

Gasps from the entire group were so loud other Musketeers that were in the garrison turned to stare at them.

“By what manner did she kill herself?’ Anne Marie gripped her hands so tightly that her fingernails bit into her flesh.

“Apparently she asked for some water,’ Rene explained. ‘When the guards came back later to check on her, Madame was already dead.”

The three inseparables gaped at each other, completely stunned at this turn of events. Then they turned toward their youngest, who seemed near to fainting, while d'Artagnan mumbled something they couldn’t make out.

Grabbing the boy’s chin in his hand, Athos stared deeply into d’Artagnan’s shocked eyes. “What? What is it?”

“Poisoned,” d’Artagnan whispered, “by her own hand,” he clutched at the sleeve of his brother’s jacket to keep himself upright.

“Cheated everyone out of a beheadin’, she did,” Porthos growled.

“Marie always did reach for the dramatic,” Richelieu remarked as he joined them for a brief moment. “I see word has spread,” he nodded solemnly to all present. “King Louis will have to trash that speech he had been preparing and do a re-write,” he smiled slyly as he turned to leave.

++++

Note:

I bet you all thought I was going to remove Marie’s head. LOL! Well you know me and my twists and turns. This was just another of those as we get near the finale. I just had to do away with her, especially as it seemed that’s what most of you wanted. I hoped I surprised you all.


	14. Finale

_Same day, mid afternoon - Royal Palace, Throne Room_

“Uncle Louis,” d’Artagnan started to bow and then hesitated as his uncle held up a hand, giving him a stern look. Then d’Artagnan remembered the lecture he had been on the receiving end of not too long ago, about not needing to bow before Louis or Anne any longer. “I know this is a difficult time for you,” he said sadly. “I honestly don’t know how to express my sorrow at your loss,” he hung his head down and slowly lifted it back up to meet his uncle’s concerned eyes. “I feel it was because of me that your mother now lies dead.”

“D’Artagnan child, you have nothing to feel guilty over,” Louis chided gently. “If not you, I am positive mother would have gotten caught up in her old intrigues again, and I would have found myself facing the same situation anyway.”

Seeing how distressed his son appeared, Gaston wanted to comfort the boy but wasn’t sure if it would be welcomed. Seeing Athos nod his head at him, Gaston took that as encouragement to do so. As Gaston slowly approached d’Artagnan he cautiously placed an arm across the lad’s shoulder. Seeing that the boy wasn’t shaking him off, Gaston let it remain there. He could tell Louis was pleased to see this interaction between them as well as his brother nodded to him as well.

Thinking about the hardship his mother had caused the poor lad, Gaston mumbled something quite unpleasant under his breath. But it would seem that d’Artagan’s ears were as sharp as his mind, as Gaston saw the boy’s head snap around to stare back at him in shock.

“Marie de Medici was your mother too,” d’Artagnan’s eyes held confusion. “Even such as she doesn’t deserve to brule en enfer.”

“You have a kind heart, son,” Gaston frowned. “My mother brought nothing but grief to me, Louis and now to you as well,” he stared off into the distance with dead eyes. “Mother can burn in hell like I said. It is only what she deserves.”

“God forgives, d’Artagnan, but there is always a price,” Athos went to stand beside his baby brother’s side. He remembered Aramis saying that once before and thought it a most opportune time to repeat it.

“I think I shall use that in my speech,” Louis brightened considerably as he had been getting a headache over the thoughts of re-doing it. “Even in death mother continues to plague me with problems as now I have to re-write my speech.”

Not certain how to respond to that or if he even should, d’Artagnan glanced at Gaston and Anne Marie, the latter had been clutching his arm tightly as she had squeezed her small person in between himself and Athos.

“May I ask if there is to be a state funeral?” Athos knew the dead woman didn’t deserve one, but her son was still the King of France.

“Non,” Louis was adamant. “Mother forfeited her right when she tried to bring harm to d’Artagnan," he huffed, "and that doesn't even count her other discretions."

“Louis and I discussed this earlier,” Gaston glanced back at his brother. “We will have a simple, closed funeral with just family in attendance at the chapel here at the garrison.”

"Along with our Captain Treville and his top men," Anne added, smiling with pride at her Musketeers.

“We will still bury her in the family crypt next to my father,” Louis felt his wife squeeze his hand gently. Anne's presence had always had a calming effect on his nerves.

“It is for the best to do it this way,” Cardinal Richelieu agreed. “Alive, Marie caused much discord,” his cold gaze passed over every person in the room. “It is to be hoped that she will finally be at peace as I pray to God we all will be as well.”

“When are you to hold the service?” d’Artagnan asked, first looking at his uncle and then his father.

“Tomorrow at noon, directly after I speak to my subjects.” Louis nodded to Anne as she took his arm. “Now I shall leave you as I have much to do.”

It was clearly a dismissal and as d’Artagnan watched his uncle and aunt depart, he was left feeling unsettled.

“D’Artagnan, are you unwell again?” Anne Marie noticed his face seemed to have grown paler than it was earlier. She muttered a quick prayer to God that he wasn’t having a relapse.

“Non,” he smiled kindly at her. “Just thinking that this all came about because Porthos discovered my true parentage.”

“I for one could kiss Porthos,” Anne Marie grinned. “You should be thankful for having such a friend as he.” She leaned forward and gave d’Artagnan a light kiss on his cheek.

“Are you intending to stay on after the funeral?” Athos remembered an earlier conversation between himself and Gaston where the other man had told him that he and Anne Marie would be staying at least another two weeks. Now, with all things considered, Athos thought perhaps Gaston’s plans may have changed.

“With mother’s death,” Gaston took in a deep breath, “there are matters back home that need my immediate attention. So Anne Marie and I will be traveling back directly after mother’s funeral.”

An imposing eyebrow shot up as Athos listened to this. He had to wonder what Gaston had involved himself in this time that required him to leave in such haste, especially after discovering his newly found son. It appeared to Athos as if somehow Marie de Medici’s death may have put a spanner in the works to whatever scheme Gaston was caught up in this time. As long as he did not drag d’Artagnan into it Athos could have cared less. But he knew the boy would miss Anne Marie’s presence more than Gaston’s when it came right down to it.

“Athos,” d’Artagnan tugged on his brother’s arm. “Let us go now.”

“Why the rush?” Athos certainly wasn’t in any hurry to leave yet, just because the king and queen had retired didn’t mean he had too.

“The cardinal’s making me nervous,” d’Artagnan used as an excuse. Really Richelieu had barely glanced at him. He was still uncomfortable about this whole mess and just wanted to be alone with his brother.

Shooting the cardinal a contemplative look, Athos didn’t see anything amiss but humored the boy anyway. “All right,” he nodded. “We shall depart right away.”

Saying their goodbyes to everyone, Athos and d’Artagnan left the palace walking side by side.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

Removing his hat, Athos held it in his hands as he stared at d’Artagnan’s guilty expression. “What was all that about back in there?”

“I do not care what Uncle Louis says,” d’Artagnan sighed, “I’m the reason my grandmother lies cold in the morgue.”

Grabbing the boy by his leather jacket, Athos shook d’Artagnan hard. He was furious that the lad blamed himself. “Do not ever let me hear you say that again!” he shouted, not caring who heard him. “I would rather see her be the one dead than you! And it was a close thing let me tell you!” Running a hand through his hair, Athos brought his temper back under control for he could tell he had scared the pup with his outburst.

Seeing how upset he had made Athos, d’Artagnan’s eyes began to tear up. “Apologies,” he turned his face away but not in time for Athos had seen his tears falling.

Hugging d’Artagnan close to his chest, Athos rested his chin on the child’s shoulder as his one hand rubbed soothingly up and down the lad’s back. He could hear d’Artagnan’s breath hitch. Placing a light kiss to the youngster’s temple, Athos stood back to examine d’Artagnan closely. “This has been a most unnerving day. Let us get something light to eat and then go about airing out our dress uniforms for the funeral.” Athos put a guiding hand behind d’Artagnan’s back as they walked back home. “It might not be a state funeral but that doesn’t mean we should not look our best.”

++++

_Next day - King Louis addresses his subjects before the funeral_

“As you all have been made aware,” King Louis announced in a strong voice, “my mother, Marie de Medici, passed away yesterday.” He could hear murmurings in the crowd of people but tried to block them out. Anne, ever present by his side, gave him a confidence he didn’t feel. “The circumstances surrounding her death will remain sealed. Suffice it to say that she died the same way she lived... with dramatic flair.” King Louis remembered Cardinal Richelieu mentioning that many a time that Marie had a penchant for the dramatic. He thought it most appropriate to use it in his speech. “I’m sure most of you remember when my mother tried to overthrow me and I chose not to execute her but instead banned her from my kingdom. In the years following I mellowed somewhat and when discovering I had a nephew in my midst, welcomed mother back.” King Louis felt Anne draw closer to his side in support. “Things still didn’t go according to plan with our reunion,” his breath stuttered for a moment. He had decided to make use of what Athos told d’Artagnan yesterday. “God forgives... but there is always a price,” King Louis gazed out into the amassed crowd. “May God have mercy on her soul.” When he turned away, King Louis could hear quiet murmurings among his subjects. He was sure that by tomorrow there would be wild rumors floating about on how his mother had died and who had snuffed out her life. For now, King Louis was too tired and worn to worry about trifles. He now had a funeral to attend.

“Well done, sire,” Anne smiled up at her husband. “You couldn’t have done better than that considering the circumstances.”

“Yes, well,” Louis pressed a kiss to her forehead, “it wouldn’t have done for me to say my true feelings about mother, now would it?”

Chuckling softly, Anne shook her head no.

++++

_Garrison chapel_

“As speeches go, Your Majesty,” Richelieu grinned, “you were quite eloquent.”

“Oui, oui,” King Louis snapped, “I already know that,” he remarked impatiently. “Let’s get on with this shall we?”

Mmmmm, Richelieu hummed to himself, the king was in a snit. Well Marie always had that effect on one... dead or alive he thought.

It was indeed a quiet affair. The immediate family sat in the front pew consisting of the king and queen, Gaston, Anne Marie and d’Artagnan. The pew behind them held the inseparables and Captain Treville. Cardinal Richelieu presided over the funeral saying the appropriate prayers for the newly departed. Richelieu finished the proceedings by saying the Hail Mary.

_Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâce._ _Le Seigneur est avec vous. Share_ _Vous ê'tes bnie entre toutes les femmes ,_ _et Jésus, le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni._ _Sainte Marie, Mè're de Dieu,_ _Priez pour nous, pcheurs,_ _maintenant et à' l'heure de notre mort._ _Amen_

When it was finished everyone got quietly up and filed out of the church.

++++

_Outside the chapel_

“I cannot even think of a single worthwhile thing to say about Marie de Medici,” Aramis grimaced as he looked at d’Artagnan. “Sorry, lad.” He noticed Porthos frowning fiercely at him. “What?”

“Nothin’,” Porthos grunted, thinking that sometimes Aramis could be an ass.

“Don’t feel badly, Aramis,” d’Artagnan smiled with his eyes but not his lips, deeming it not quite the thing to do at a time such as this. “After all she did try to murder me... _twice_.”

“No disrespect to the recently departed Marie,” Richelieu commented as he came upon them, “but at least we will not have to worry about anymore of her meddlesome mischief.” He nodded at Athos and the boy and went to re-join the king and queen.

"I thought he just said he wasn't gonna disrespect her?' Porthos stared at Richelieu's back as the cardinal walked away. "Funny way ta show it," he grunted. "But oh, I bet he’ll be dancin’ a jig in his chambers later,” Porthos murmured that last part quietly for only his brothers to hear.

“On that you can place good money on, Porthos,” Athos smiled grimly as he watched Richelieu talking with the royal couple as they headed back to the palace.

++++

_Outside the Royal Palace_

“You will write to me,” Anne Marie looked at d’Artagnan, memorizing his features. “Promise me,” she implored with sad eyes.

“Of course I will write and you will do the same, eh?” d’Artagnan smiled and hugged her to him. “I shall miss you.”

“And I you, my brother,” she lifted a hand to touch his cheek. Then looking over d’Artagnan’s shoulder Anne Marie winked at Athos. “I shall miss you as well, mon ami.”

Laughing, Athos walked over to hug Anne Marie as well. “Take care of yourself, imp.”

“Always,” she huffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m the one left at home to worry over what my father’s involving himself in.”

“Uh, well,” Athos cleared his throat, bent low and whispered in her ear. “Keep an eye out, for I believe Gaston is up to something again.”

“I believe that as well,” Anne Marie chewed on her lip. “He is in an indecent hurry to leave and I cannot fathom the reason for it at the moment.”

“Take care to not fall into whatever plans Gaston entangles himself,” d’Artagnan warned her.

“Still can’t call him pe’re yet can you?” Anne Marie giggled charmingly.

“Non,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “That honor alone belonged to Alexander d’Artagnan.”

“I wished I could have met him myself,” Anne Marie caught her father signaling to her and knew she had to be brief. “He did a fine job with you d’Artagnan.”

“My thanks,” d’Artagnan too noticed Gaston motioning to her. “Let’s get you over there before he takes off without you.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying at the palace indefinitely,” Anne Marie pouted prettily making the Musketeers laugh at her antics.

“God speed, Gaston,” Louis slapped his brother on the back as he stepped away from the carriage. Making room for Anne Marie and d’Artagnan to approach.

D’Artagnan helped Anne Marie into the carriage and then he turned to face his father. Holding out his hand, d’Artagnan shook the other man’s. “It was an enlightening experience meeting you.”

“I’m damn proud of you, d’Artagnan!” Gaston surprised his son by hugging him affectionately. “If things had worked out differently, I would have had the pleasure of raising you myself,” he shrugged. “But the fickleness of fate had other ideas.” Gaston looked into d’Artagnan’s eyes, and he reached out to press a kiss on either side of the lad’s face. “I will be returning to Paris more often now that you are here,” Gaston laughed. “But in the meantime I expect you and I to keep up a steady correspondence.”

“As much as I am able to do between my duties,” d’Artagnan replied. Waiting for Gaston to enter the carriage, d’Artagnan then closed the door. “Adieu,” he waved at the departing coach as both Anne Marie and his father stuck out their heads to wave back.

Feeling the presence of the others behind him, d’Artagnan slowly turned around. “Well, I guess life returns to normal once more.”

“ _Normal_ ,” Porthos grunted. “Where ya been livin' this past year?” He thought the poor boy had lost his wits.

“The lad’s delusional,” Aramis snorted. “There’s nothing _normal_ about living in Paris.”

“I for one am looking forward to a little more _normalcy_ in our lives,” Athos commented dryly as he gazed at d'Artagnan, love shining bright in his blue eyes for his petite brother. “I’m for drinks at Madame La Rouge’s,” Athos unexpectedly announced. “Any takers?”

“See,” d’Artagnan chuckled with a bow of respect toward Athos, “that’s what I’m talking about... _normal_.

The End


End file.
